




iTi 


^ f ^ 

^ 

I 

J [ 

^ I ! ■ 

^Tv 

V 


f\j w\\ 

SlrW^R'l 

> tj t u ., 


< 


f ^r\ 1 V 










L' t iV » * ■ .v 

’▼ » 

(ll 

jCrji 


A' • ; £• ^ /' ?0 J A 

i i\y •■"•j $ hvY'*4 


|V« j i im 


Mj 




P j 4 A ^ i 1 1 4P f | 

%* 4 •} r l_*4 /.»! 


IT * I 1 






i L ▼ l. f « % t T 1 J 

^ \ i p . *1. 
































. 









* 

■ 

























THE 


Annals of a Baby. 

BY 

SARAH BRIDGES STEBBINS. 



T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
306 CHESTNUT STREET. 























c 





* • t 




copyright: 

• « 

tT. B. PETERSON- &c BROTHERS. 

1882 . 






* 
























r 




I 


* 


* 


* » •* 


• • 




PREFACE. 


TT7HEN “The Annals of a Baby” was first 
» » published anonymously, four years ago, it 
had the temporary popularity of an acceptable 
brochure ; and since, although it has been 
out of print a long time, a sort of affectionate 
regard for the little book has so much increased, 
one evidence being a constant application to 
myself for copies which I could not supply, that 
a reissue, with the name of the Author attached, 
is rendered expedient. 

I therefore hope that all the young mothers, 
the young aunties, the grandfathers and grand- 

( 3 ) 


4 PREFACE . 

mothers who have found smiles and tears 
in its pages, or may hereafter do so, will be 
pleased to welcome this quiet story which kindly 
appreciation has often made me glad that I 
had written. 


Sarah Bridges Stebbins. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I. — Baby’s First Gifts 7 

II. — Naming the Baby 24 

III. — One of the Aunties 43 

IY. — Baby’s Nurse 58 

V. — The Crippled Sister 92 

VI. — Baby’s Party 124 

VII. — The Sunset of Life 154 

VIII. — Aunt Hannah 166 

IX. — Baby’s Nose is Out of Joint 206 

X. — Passing Away 215 


(5) 






































































♦ 






















' 












. 















’ 


































































’ * > ‘ • 










s 














. »>, ,»*■ . • > 

* 
































































* 




' 


















- 












* i* s ' * v ♦ * * * • 






V * ■*• 

- 










. 




















THE AMALS OF A BABY. 


i. 

baby’s first gifts 

Once upon a time a Baby was born in a happy 
home, where the Father and Mother were young, and 
where there were no other children. It was a soft, 
pink little thing, with just dark, downy rings for hair, 
and a sound like a bird’s chirrup for its first weak 
human cry. There was great joy in the house about it; 
every one who saw it said there never was such a baby 
before, and never could be such another. Its Mother 
had held it a moment on her arm, looking at it in a 
wonder that it could be really hers, and with a gush 
of strange love that stirred great shining tears into her 
eyes, which would have fallen on the Baby, only the 


8 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


Fat Nurse with the frilled cap snatched it away and 
told her “ it was unlucky to cry over a new-born child ! 
The Father had stolen into the room on tiptoe, kissed 
Ills pale girl- wife with a deeper tenderness than he had 
ever yet felt, had awkwardly held the tiny, warm roll 
in his strong hands as if it w r as glass that he was afraid 
of breaking, and had then been sent aw r ay like a victim 
into outer regions. The Grandfathers had come, lean- 
ing on their gold-headed canes. They smiled at each 
other, and shook hands across the narrow white crib ; 
and as they joked over the Baby there was a faint sigh 
smothered down by each at their own gray hairs, and 
a little sadness they did not show as they thought of 
the trials of life that surely lay before that untried 
soul. The Grandmothers, in their black silk dresses, 
and with nice rosy faces, had smoothed it and patted it 
and half cried over it, talking all the while about the 
births of their own babies that were grown up men and 
Cornell now, and feeling as if this Baby was a born 
princess and they both queen-dowagers. And all the 
Young Aunties, with their gay floating ribbons and 
fancy aprons, had fluttered in groups around the sleep- 
ing stranger, had held up their dimpled hands in 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


9 


delight, and kissed it softly in subdued ecstasies ; 
called it “ a rosebud,” “ a seraph,” and many other 
endearing titles ; quarrelled who should take it first 
and hold it longest, until they also had been cleared 
out, like other victims, by the fat old woman with tho 
frilled cap, who seemed to consider the Baby as her 
own special possession. The youngest of the Aunties 
said she was “ a bear ” — behind her back, however ; 
and the oldest of the Young Aunties held her head up 
very high, and wondered “ who the darling would be 
named after.” 

Every one who came brought the Baby a present, 
until there never was a baby who had so many and 

Buck different gifts. Its own crib, its mother’s bed, 

and its pretty dressing-basket were piled full of them ; 
and the Baby lay in the midst on its snowy pillow, 

quite careless of all these tokens of affection and 

admiration ; able, in fact, to do nothing but rest after 
the weariness of being born into the world. There 
were all sorts of rattles and whistles, and india-rubber 
balls covered with net, a big doll twice as large as 
Baby’s self, with a satin dress and movable eyes, and 
a blue pincushion with “ Baby ” spelt on it in bright 


10 


BABY'S FIJiST GIFTS. 


fresli pin 3 intended for Baby’s future torture. There 
were also daintily embroidered slips worked by the 
Aunties, finely wrought fiannels that had tried aged 
spectacles, silver spoons and forks to feed the pouting 
mouth still sucking in sleep, and a gold cross and chain 
that was laid upon the small breast which had scarcely 
yet learned to heave with breath. Every one that 
brought a gift brought also good wishes and bright 
hopes and tender prayers for the innocent little life. 
Only one Poor Relation brought all these without any 
tiling else ; for she was one of those who are rich only 
in love, and have nothing to spare from the hard-earned 
daily bread that fed the hungry. She was not gay and 
young like the Aunties ; care and trials had taken 
away her youth and gayety ; but her heart yearned over 
the Baby perhaps more earnestly than theirs. She was 
sorry she could not bring something to the child of 
more value than costly toys or dresses — some gift that 
should be a talisman against pain and evil, something 
a soul might prize through all eternity. She wished 
6hc could summon the fairies, as was done in olden 
times, to bestow gifts on the children of kings and 
queens ; only she shuddered when she remembered 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


11 


that with the rest came always a malignant hag who 
vented her spite in a curse that counteracted all the 
good offerings of the others. Nevertheless, when she 
had kissed the Baby “ good-by,” and murmured a short 
prayer over it, she wended her way homeward with her 
head full of this same fancy, for the Poor Relation had 
a poet’s heart, though she had never found time from 
work to sing a poet’s songs, and she had secretly kept 
green there many a faith of her childhood. She could 
not help thinking, as she walked slowly over the fields, 
that if she could only find a five-leaved clover, and hold 
it in her hand in the open air at midnight, perhaps she 
would see the Fairy Court, and could ask the queen to 
shed her bounty on the dear infant. She stepped care- 
fully over the grass, so as not to tread on the daisies — - 
for she was almost as fond of flowers as of babies — and 
looked for the clover, though she smiled at herself foi 
pretending to believe there were such mysterious crea- 
tures as fairies any more in this changed every-day 
world. She recollected how often she had hunted foi 
a five-leaved clover when she was a little girl, all over 
these same meadows, down by the brook-side, and out 
In the still, solemn woods, and never had found one; 


12 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


and she remembered also how many times she had 
been told there was no such growth in nature. After 
awhile, with a sad sigh, slie gave up looking for it, and 
wished she was a child again, with nothing to do but 
wander under the trees, and run races with the spark- 
ling rills. The sky was all crimson and gold with the 
sunset, and as she raised her head to gaze at the tinted 
clouds, she stumbled over a stone hidden in the grass ; 
as she glanced down again, lo ! before her she suddenly 
beheld the object of her search, a very and true clover 
with five leaves, just nestling under the shadow of 
a full-spread buttercup. She could scarcely believe 
her eyes, and almost trembled with a sort of awe as she 
broke it from its slender stalk, and then she was as 
glad as if she had really been only a child; she 
laughed over it, and talked to herself about what it 
should reveal to her, till pleasure brought a flush to her 
worn cheeks that made her look quite young and 
pretty, just as she did when she thought she should, 
perhaps, some day have babies of her own to love. 

That night, before the clock struck twelve, when her 
Aged Father and Mother and her Crippled Sister were 
fast asleep, she slipped noiselessly down the stairs and 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


13 


out on the open porch of her humble home, where the 
moonlight was shining through the vines. She told her- 
self that, at her age, it was silly to be playing such fool- 
ish pranks ; but she held the five-leaved clover tight in 
her hand, and stood under the arch of boughs, looking 
out on the narrow lawn dotted with bushes, and waiting 
for midnight. Just at the first stroke of the solemn 
bell that always tolled the hours, a slight breeze stirred 
all the leaves around her, and a sort of gentle rustling 
floated on the quiet air; on the third stroke all the 
flowers on the vines seemed to expand into full bloom, 
and turned slowly towards the lawn ; at the fifth, in- 
numerable fire-flies gathered on that one spot ; at the 
seventh, the dew-drops appeared to grow hard and 
glitter with brilliant rays like diamonds ; at the ninth, 
the roses shed floods of perfume, and the jessamine 
stars fairly distilled a precious odor ; at the eleventh 
stroke a slender white circle glistened in front of her 
as if the blades of grass had been bent and strung with 
oriental pearls ; and at the twelfth, there, suddenly be- 
fore her, was the fairy court. The fairies were all 
dressed in green, so that, if it had not been for their 
bright little faces, she might not have thought them 


14 


BABY'S FIRST OIFTS. 


fairies at all, but only leaves on the bushes. Titania 
was throned on a white rose just a petal or two highei 
than Puck, who w r as making faces at the train-bearers 
of her majesty as they stood just behind her; the rest 
were seated on the dew-drops, perched among the 
blossoms, or balancing on feathery sprays. Titania 
alone seemed to be arrayed in a silvery mist, with 
a crown of many-colored jewels on her head, each so 
small as to be only a spark, and with the breast-plume 
of a humming-bird in her hand for a sceptre. When she 
spoke, her voice vras low, soft, and clear, like the sing- 
ing of a far-off lark ; the men fairies all pulled off their 
caps, and Puck stopped plaguing the pages, and turned 
his twinkling eyes upon her face as he listened. 

“In the name of the five-leaved clover,” she said, 
*■ the fairy Court has been summoned. The fairies can 
refuse nothing to the holder of this charm ; make thy 
request of Titania.” 

The Poor Relation answered like one in a dream: 
“ Gifts for a Baby, O Queen ! ” 

The fairy swayed forward a little, and asled with 
tender interest: “Is it a Baby-bov, or a Baby-girl?” 
And when she heard the echo “A girl!” a sadness 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS 


15 


pissed like a fleeting shadow over the brightness of hei 
face, which, being noticed by Puck, he gave out a 
mocking laugh, like the whistle of an insect. But the 
queen waved her sceptre for silence, and a sort of 
sorrowing expression fell upon the countenances of all, 
even upon the brow of her sportive husband, while she 
spoke : 

“ Many years ago we could have brought this Baby 
rare offerings, that would have made all the world 
know that she had fairies for godmothers ; but, with 
the belief of men in our power, much of our power is 
gone ; the gnomes and the elves have all died, so we 
have no more tribute from the earth and the mines ; 
your electricity has desolated the water — kingdom of 
the sylphs, and we receive no longer the treasures of 
the seas; the salamanders are bound in their summer 
6leep, and the fickle sprites of air are not now in 
league with us.” 

Here the queen paled, and Puck swore a round oath, 
drawing his tiny sword, as a rough gale shook the 
flower on which they sat. 

“ But still,” she resumed as the breeze passed, beam- 
ing at the Poor Relation like a star emerging from n 


16 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


cloud, “ still, for those who come to us in faith the 
fairies have some gifts to render yet. There are not 
many of us left, and our rich jewels have been stolen 
from us one by one. It has been long since we have 
been called upon to bless a cradle, but this Baby shall 
have all the fairy store of presents. Offer first, O Puck, 
my lord the king ! ” 

“ Ho, ho ! ” said the merry monarch, nodding joy- 
ously to the Poor Relation, “ I give the Baby some- 
thing better than gems — a light heart and a free wit ! ” 

“ And I,” said another, in answer to the queen, “ I 
bestow a winning smile.” 

“ And I a rose-hue on the cheeks.” 

“ And I a soft hand in sickness, and a strong one to 
protect the weak.” 

Thus, one after another, the fairies chirped out their 
many gifts, till grace, modesty, tenderness, talent, and 
countless outward beauties had been showered on the 
unconscious Baby. The Poor Relation’s heart was all 
in a glow and her eyes full of thankful drops to think 
what favor she had won for the child, when she had 
not been able to give it a rattle or a doll ; and she was 
especially glad that all the bad fairies of old stories 


ZAJBY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


17 


bad seemed to have died out, since not one evil wish 
was expressed. But suddenly the five-leaved clover 
trembled in her hand, and through the tear on liei 
lashes she saw Titania standing upon it in all her misty 
and jewelled glory. The queen pointed to two flowers 
lying out on the ground — one a deep, full rose, red as 
a man’s blood, and the other a pallid lily, shining like 
a silver chalice in the rays of the moon. 

“ Here,” said she, “ is my gift ; the rose is Life, the 
lily is Death ; choose which shall be placed in the 
Baby’s hand, for either is a priceless boon.” 

While she yet spoke a cloud passed over the moon, 
and when the light shone out again the fairy court had 
vanished, and the Poor Delation found herself alone, 
the five-leaved clover withered in her hand, and at her 
feet the Bose of Life and the Lily of Death. 

All the rest of the night she could not sleep for 
weighing in her mind which of the fairy’s gifts she 
should place in the Baby’s hand, for she desired to do 
only that which she thought would be most likely tc 
secure the child’s true good. Life, with all the fairies 
had bestowed, might be beautiful and brilliant, but 

none of them had given a talisman to shield from 
2 


18 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


sorrow. She thought of her own sad years, and how 
often she had wished she had died when she was a 
baby, and sc escaped the sin and trouble of existence. 
She thought, if the Baby died now, innocent and pure 
it would go straight to heaven, and be a bright angel 
among God’s cherubs, never to know the want and 
care, and pain of humanity. 

But then this Baby had so much to live for — hope 
and friends, fame and fortune, and perhaps, who could 
tell? even happiness, for all hearts did not always 
suffer. So she could not decide ; and when she arose 
she asked her white-haired old father as he sat in the 
sun on the porch : 

“ Which would be the best gift for a new-born babe, 
life or death ? ” 

He looked curiously at her with his dim eyes, and 
answered : 

“ It is a hard question, for life is full of snares ar.d 
evil, and when the babe has lived as long as I have it 
will know that all the hopes of life are not so sweet 
as the hope of death’s long rest ! ” 

And she asked the wrinkled mother who sat besido 
him, clinking the shining needles through the snowy 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


19 


wool ; and the withered hands stopped their bus} knit- 
ting for an instant as she said : 

“ Life is labor, but in the world after death we will 
neither toil nor spin ! ” 

So she said to herself. “ The old, for whom time is 
over, believe that death is a greater blessing than life. 
The old are wise; but they are also weary. Let me 
ask the young.” 

So she went into the house where the Crippled Sister 
was propped up on a couch by the window, weaving 
arabesque figures into a fine linen garment that swept 
down over her like a shroud ; and she asked her also : 

“ Sister, which would be the best gift for a new-born 
babe, life or death ? ” 

“ Oh ! life ! life, of course ! ” 

“But, Sister, there is so much pain in life — you and 
I know that ? ” 

“Yes,” replied the cripple thoughtfully ; “but there 
is the air, the sun, and the fiowers ; the blue sky and the 
stars ; the thought of God, and the joy of being! ” 

Then the Poor Relation smoothed the pillows behind 
her sister’s crooked back, and went forth, saying softly, 
“ Life is always hope to the warm blood of youth, for 


20 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


youth is not yet tired of woe and work.” Then she 
concluded that the Baby should choose for itself; she 
would hold the two flowers over it while asleep, and 
whichever one its eyes turned upon when they first 
opened she would know was its destined fate As she 
walked back over the field, where she had found the 
five-leaved clover the day before, the birds sang, the 
daisies nodded in the breeze, the lowing of kine reached 
her ears, and on the side of the purple hills a little way 
off she saw a bright stream leaping and flashing in the 
morning light. All things spoke of life, and that life 
was pleasant and fair. But as she went on farther she 
came to the still Churchyard, and looked in at the open 
gate. There lay the green graves 'with their white 
stones at the head and foot ; the weeping willows droop- 
ing their graceful branches over the forgotten names ; 
and all seemed so calm and holy, as if the sleepers 
there had folded their hands and lain down with the 
hush of prayer in their hearts; so that if life looked 
fair, death at least was peace. Still she mused, as she 
kept on her way, till she entered the quiet chamber 
where^ Baby slumbered in its warm nest. The room 
was darkened, for the pale Young Mother was asleep 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


21 


also; and the Fat Nurse was down-stairs in the kitchen, 
making her face redder than ever under her frilled cap 
as she stirred a saucepan over the hot fire, keeping 
her dignity while the cross cook fidgeted with the 
tongs. The Poor Relation* leaned over the crib, hold- 
ing in either hand the Rose of Life and the Lily of 
Death, and waiting for the Baby to open its eyes upon 
destiny. The tiny creature did not stir, but slept on 
till she began to tremble at the power she held, and to 
think she would carry both the flowers away and bury 
them in the garden at home. Then she feared the 
fairy might be angry, and send something worse than 
life or death upon the child as a punishment for the 
neglect of her gifts. Suddenly she bethought herself 
of the five-leaved clover, which she had hidden in her 
bosom ; so she passed the two blossoms into one hand as 
she drew forth the faded charm, scarcely believing that 
the fairies could appear by day, or that the shrivelled 
plant kept its potency as a spell. But as she held it up 
Titania appeared, alone and mistier than ever, perched 
among the airy lace-curtains on the foot board of Babj’s 
bed. 

“ O Queen ! ” she cried, “ bestow thine own gifts I 


22 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS. 


A mortal has not wisdom enough to decide a human 
fate!” 

The queen smiled on her, and her crown of minute 
gems sparkled more brightly as she said : 

“ Didst thou not know that to find a five-leaved clover 
and to talk with fairies was to mark thee foi trial of 
6oul 3 Dost hesitate between my gifts, because sorrow 
comes into all life ? Sorrow is life’s discipline — an 
angel that leads immortals to loftier grace, and they 
stand higher in the next world who have suffered in 
this than they who have died unpained. Give this 
Baby life, for we, the fairies, have given her gifts that 
shall make her a glory on earth, and her life shall be 
example. But because we dare to yield naught that 
can ward off sorrow, I, Titania, will bestow upon her 
that which will make sorrow sweet, and stay with her 
as a joy stronger than despair, and a light in every 
darkness. She shall have Love — love from her birth 
and beyond her tomb ; for Life with Love is richer 
than Death and Peace ! ” 

And the fairy touched the lily with her sceptre, and 
6he and it vanished away. 

When the Young Mother woke she marvelled much 


BABY'S FIRST GIFTS 


23 


to see a beautiful crimson rose lying in the Baby’s 
hand. The Baby too awoke, and looked at it, and 
smiled at the strange plaything. And because it was 
the first flower her child ever saw, because it came 
there in so wonderful a way, for even the Fat Nurse 
knew not who brought it, the Mother took it and 
pressed it in her Bible. And long after, when the 
Baby had grown up to be a lovely and noble maiden, 
worshipped and loved, humble and pure, and a blessing 
to the Poor Relation, she found it there, the mystic 
Rose of Life among the words of Christ. 


I L 


NAMING THE BABY. 

The young Aunties Lad said it was a “ ro3e-bud ; n 
and when it woke from its noonday nap in its little 
white crib, it was a very blooming little bud indeed ; 
its round dimpled face was pink with the warm flush 
of sleep ; its tiny lips, that had been softly sucking in a 
dream, were dewy and red as two unfolding leaves ; its 
small, doubled fists, that it looked at so curiously with 
its wide blue eyes, were tinted in the tender palms like 
the satiny inside petals of a flower ; and the wee balls 
of feet, that had kicked themselves out of their pretty 
socks, had such rosy soles, and such mites of cunning 
pink toes that the delighted Aunties might have 
thought each one was verily a sweet and separate 
blossom. 

And it lay on its downy bed just like a bird in its 
nest, and cooed at its funny dots of hands, till the 


NAMING THE BABY. 


25 


young Father and Mother, who Lad been sitting 
very quietly while Baby slept, hardly venturing to 
speak above a whisper for fear of stirring that sacred 
slumber, smiled at each other as they listened to that 
little chirp, and went side by side and leaned together 
over their treasure — God’s crowning gift to holy human 
love. 

They looked down on Baby with such shining faces 
that Baby left off studying its fingers, and looked up at 
them, with its bright bit of a dawning laugh, that made 
the admiring Mother lift it in her loving arms for the 
happy Father to kiss its damask cheek. And then they 
sat down to watch and wonder at the growing meaning 
in its ways ; and while, with a solemn tenderness, they 
talked of what might be in the dim far-off of Baby’s 
future years, there came a peculiar knock at the cham- 
ber door, vigorous and muffled, as if given by strong 
knuckles well-cased in folded flesh ; and directly there 
entered in, puffing and beaming, the Fat Nurse in whose 
ample lap Baby had received its first notions of active 
life, when habitual trotting churned its daily bread into 
buttermilk. Instead of the frilled caps that had 
nodded over Baby’s naps, she wore a large black bon 


NAMING TEE BABY. 


net like a bombazine coal-scuttle, with an expansive 
bow tied just in the crease of her doable chin, and car 
ried in one hand a swelling basket whose lid was intri- 
cately fastened with a green ribbon, and in the other a 
bulging cotton umbrella, stout in the stick and faded 
in the stuff. She announced that having j ust finished 
up one engagement, and being on her way to another, 
she had dropped in to see how her former patients 
were getting along ; and then carefully depositing bas- 
ket and umbrella upon a chair, she loosened the bonnet 
bow, flung the flowing strings over her broad shoulders, 
and took the Baby right into her pillowy arms, as if, 
while she was about, its place was only there. The 
Mother saw that she looked at the infant with critical 
eyes, and anxiously awaited her first remark. Grad- 
ually the long embroidered robe began to wave up and 
down as the two cushioned knees fell into their usual 
motion, and Baby’s dinner kept time to the rolling, 
mellow voice. “ It’s a growin’ fust rate, mum ; it’s as 
fine a child as I’ve seed since I went a-nussin’ ; my babies 
mostly is good speciments ; it ain’t got no marks nor dis- 
torts, and no rashes nor chafes. You’ve did better than 
most beginners with the fust ; it’s pooty well over the 


NAMING TEE BABY. 


27 


colic time, and ain’t got a croupy neck, bo I reckon 
it’ll get on now all right.” 

The fair little Mother sparkled all over at the praise 
of Experience. 

“Now, mum,” Nurse continued, glaring benignly 
at the white robe that heaved up and down upon her 
spacious lap, “you haven’t told me the young un’a 
name ? ” 

“ Oh, Nurse,” was the reply, “ it’s only ‘ Baby ’ yet ; 
we have hardly thought of any other name ! ” 

“Well, now, that’s uncommon,” rejoined the Nurse 
in a meditative tone. “ If it was the last of a beggar’s 
dozen I could understand that you might have run out 
of names ; but mostly there’s one cut and dried for the 
fust afore it’s born, and it pops into the world and its 
name both at onct.” 

“Yes,” answered the Mother, “it is generally so; 
but there are so many to name our Baby after that it is 
hard to decide; we cannot name it for one of the 
Grandmothers without hurting the feelings of the 
other ; and if we were to call it after any of the 
Arnties, all the rest would think they were each neg- 
lected ; and I do not wish it christened after me because 


23 


NAMING TEE BABY 


it would seem so selfish, and there are so many pretty 
fancy names that we never know which to choose.” 

Nurse slowly laid again behind her broad back the 
bonnet ribbon that had dandled forward by degrees, 
and nodded assentingly to these confidential remarks. 

“It’s curious about names,” she said. “I’ve been 
a -noticin’ all my life that people grow like their names ; 
Johns and Jameses ain’t near so like to go to the bad 
as your Howards and Augustuses; for you see, fine 
names sort o’ give young uns hifalutin’ notions. Many a 
one I’ve seed onsettled, try in’ to match his doin’s to a 
big-soundin’ name, that might have turned out sober 
chap enough if them he belonged to had had sense to 
call him after some of the plain old Bible folk. Now 
there’s me ! You’d never guess what a name I’ve got ; 
it was a sore point to me many a long year before I 
plucked up courage to put it down. My mother had 
been a-readin’ some trash or other of a novel just 
afore I was born, and nothin’ must do but 1 must bo 
named after the young woman it was all about. So 
when daddy came into the room to see her and me, just 
as soon as she could gasp she ups and says, “ It’s to be 
Soplironisber, Bill; I’ve settled it so in my own mind 


NAMING THE BAST. 


29 


The old man like to have gone off. ‘Don’t you think 
Susan would suit us better?’ says he. ‘Susan!’ says 
she, a-turnin’ up her nose, ‘ I ain’t a-goin to have a child 
of mine called Susan!” ‘And I don’t think I can 
stand one of mine named Sofynisby ! Lord, what a 
name ! ’ says he. And so tlie} r bandied the two names, 
until mother she was a-gettin’ excited and the old man 
mad; and Mrs. Jane Spotts, who was a-nussin’ of her, 
she just took him by the collar and pulled him out of 
the room. But the long and the short of it is he 
wouldn’t give in and neither would she, and so they 
tacked the two together, and there I was, Sophronisber 
Susan Loggers! And such a time as I had with that 
name! When I got big enough, the older children they 
all made fun of it, and plagued me half to death about 
it ; and mother, she never called me nothin’ but full 
Sophronisber, and dad, he never called me nothin’ but 
Sukey, and it was ‘Plirony,’ and ‘Sophy,’ and ‘ Xis,’ 
and ‘ Sue,’ till I had as many names as a cat has lives. 
And after I grew up it got worse, till I was ’shamed as 
could be of the horrid sound, and ready to cuss my 
sponsors in baptism ; the young fellows they sniggered 
over it, and the gals they just purtended they couldn’t 


30 


NAMING THE BABY. 


say it, it was so long, and used to ask me to spell it foi 
’em, till I got so touchy over it it was a-spilin’ my tem 
per, ’cause I wasn’t born a vixen at all. But Howbe 
ever, when Cuddle came along, and him and me was to 
make a match, says he, “ I don’t like your name of So 
phronisber ! ’ ‘ No more do I,’ says I. ‘ Let’s drop it 
then,’ says he. ‘ Agreed,’ says I. So we got the par- 
son to say ‘ Susan , will you take this man V and made 
him leave out the Sophronisber, and Mrs. Susan Cuddle 
I have been ever since. And so I never advise nobody 
to stick a name to a child that ’ll be a thorn in their 
side, when more like most of ’em will have to be about 
homely things than livin’ like grand folks in a play. 
How would it sound for me to be goin’ out a-nussin’ 
and bein’ called ‘Mrs. Sophronisber Cuddle’? You 
ladies would think I was too fine to know my bizness. 
No indeed ! Plain Susan for me, I say ! ” 

Mrs. Cuddle’s garrulous recital might have run on 
interminably, to such polite listeners ; but while they 
were laughing over it, the door opened, and in walked 
quite a family procession bearing cautiously in their 
midst a snowy box bound and tied up with bright and 
dainty ribbons. There were the Grandfathers leaning 


NAMING THE BABY. 


31 


sturdily on their gold-headed canes; and the Grand- 
mothers in their shining black silks with their good- 
natured faces just tipped to ruddiness by the outside 
air; and the Young Aunties, a whole troop of them, 
fresh and gushing and gay; and the Poor Relation, 
clad in quiet dress, with the spiritual beauty of an un- 
selfish life written on her countenance. And the blithe 
and jubilant greetings all over, the Grandmothers laid 
the box upon the bed, and with deft fingers undid the 
fastenings and removed the lid, and lo! before all the 
sparkling and admiring eyes, the wonderfully worked 
and delicate, long christening robe ! And because all 
those who came with it had had some share in it, they had 
made up this party to bring it all together to the only 
Baby in the family on whom they all already doted. 
One Grandfather had given the material ; and the other, 
who was something of an artist, in his leisnre hours had 
drawn the design, with quite a pride in its leaves and 
flowers as they grew and entwined beneath his gold- 
rimmed spectacles ; and one Grandmother had made it 
up, and the other had set in the lace-like wheels of some 
fine old-fashioned stitch that had been familiar in the 
far-off days of her girlhood; and the Young Aunties 


32 


NAMING THE BABY. 


had each embroidered buds and sprays, roses and scrolls* 
with much comparing of work, and chatting over the 
“ Angel ” who was to wear it ; while the Poor Relation 
had aided her Crippled Sister to finish it off with all 
those parts which had required unwearying patience 
and a steady hand. As it lay there before them, beauti- 
ful in feminine sight, a dumb, exquisite thing of cam- 
bric and thread, it seemed almost hallowed to the 
mother’s heart by reason of the richness of love that 
had made it, and spoke to her, like a voice, of the ten- 
derness with which old and young had wrought out 
their thought for her little one ; tears filled her soft 
eyes; she reverently lifted the little dress and kissed it 
“ O Baby ! ” she cried, with a sweet quiver in her 
tones, holding it up before the unconscious optics that 
were engaged in watching the bobbing up and down 
of its other sweeping garments which the Fat Nurse 
still monotonously kept going, “ look what they have 
done for you ! All of them, my darling, all of them ! ” 
And then she laid the snowy robe carefully back on 
the bed, ana catching one head after another in her 
embracing arms, caressed and thanked them, half laugh- 
ing and half crying. All talked at once, till an excited 


NAMING THE BABY. 


33 


Grandfather rapped upon the floor with his gold headed 
cane, producing a moment’s lull, of which he availed 
himself to speak. 

“ Here,” said he, “ is the christening frock; but wo 
have not heard yet what is the -Baby’s name ? ” 

And the Young Mother was again obliged to make 
humiliating confession that Baby was still a nameless 
waif ; wdiereupon arose once more a chorus of voices, 
exclaiming and suggesting, until the other Grandfather 
also called the meeting to order, and there was a 
general subsidence into a semicircle of chairs to de- 
bate the important question. The Young Mother took 
her Baby in her own arms, and sat upon the low seat in 
their midst, and the Father stood half behind her, 
looking down upon the two who were dearer to him 
than all the rest of the world, and it w'as the old, old 
picture of the Iloly Family — the picture that stirred 
the heaits of dead and famous painters, till the most 
beautiful thing that art and religion and human spirits 
knew was this familiar vision of the mother and child ; 
for whether it be Mary and the infant Christ, or 
whether it be a modern mother and her baby, it is the 
highest and purest and loveliest picture that shines 


34 


NAMING THE BAHT. 


upon the dark backgrounds of life, and is seen in homes 
all over earth — the rich man’s palace and the poor 
man’s hut. 

“ Now, then,” remarked Grandfather No. One, “ the 
matter under discussion is, ‘What is to be the Baby’s 
Name ? 5 ” 

“It appears to me,” said Grandfather No. Two, 
“ that this is not our business at all ; it belongs to 
them,” and he pointed with his cane to the Young 
Father and Mother. 

“Well, now,” chirruped Grandmother No. One, “it 
will be pleasant to talk it over, and if they have not 
made a choice, perhaps we can help them to something 
that will suit.” 

“ Dear me ! ” exclaimed Grandmother No. Two, “ it 
is a girl ; and if a girl is pretty and nice, as our Baby is 
sure to be, it doesn’t matter much what her name is ! ” 

“ Oh, don’t it ? ” interposed the Fat Nurse, sotto voce, 
and the young couple smiled at the recollection of Mrs. 
Cuddle’s early woes with her romantic- cognomen. 

“ Call it after Sis,” hypocritically observed one 
Young Auntie, indicating anotLer Young Auntie with 
a slight flirt of her neatly -gloved hand. 


NAMING THE BABY. 


35 


“ Oil, not for the world ! ” impressively replied the 
other young lady ; “ your name is so much sweeter 
than mine that I am sure it ought to be called after 
you / ” 

And another Young Auntie sentimentally murmured, 
u Name it Angelina, do ; because it is such a seraph, 
you know ! ” And the Fat Nurse looked at her quench- 
ingly^ and said so lugubriously, “ Bette*’ Susan than 
Soplironisber ! ” that they all laughed, though only 
Baby’s Father and Mother understood the personal 
allusion. 

And then, one after another, each* proposed a differ- 
ent name, and the Young Mother had to exercise great 
tact and diplomacy to decline all without giving 
offence ; and ever and anon she glanced over at the 
Poor Relation, who alone sat silent, gazing with floating 
eyes at the Baby and its parents, as if ‘she saw the pic- 
ture Raphael painted, as if she comprehended the holi- 
ness of the child, the sanctity of the mother — she who 
would never have a baby of her own. 

And they brought up all the family names, and those 
of Biblical heroines, from Eve to Phebe, whom Paul 
commended as a “ succorer of many ; ” aud there was 


36 


NAMING TIIE BABY. 


much chiding of each other’s tastes, and quips and 
quirks and merry sayings over the associations aroused, 
and affected little shrieks of horror from the Aunties 

the unpoetic title of some otherwise forgotten ances- 
tress, and much consequent recalling of family history, 
and great rolling of the eyes and raising of the hands 
at the Judiths and Deborahs of the Scriptures. But 
the young parents seemed hard to please, and objections 
were offered to everything proposed. 

At last, one of the Grandmothers, who had had her 
ups and downs in life, and was therefore a rather 
worldly old lady in so far as she was anxious to save 
all those belonging to her from corresponding downs, 
and equally desirous to secure for them all possible ups> 
insisted upon a moment’s silence of the mingling voices, 
as she had an important motion to make. 

“ My Dear,” she said to the Mother, evidently consid- 
ering the Father’s opinion on the subject quite a secon- 
dary and insignificant consideration, “ in naming the 
Baby would it not be well to regard something elso 
than a mere pleasing of the fancy — your child’s future 
advantage, for instance? Now, there’s your Aunt llan- 
naii” — here there was a simultaneous outcry from the 


NAMING THE BABY. 


37 


Amities, which caused the Grandmother to shake her 
politic old head at them, and address the conclusion of 
her remarks to those fastidious butterflies. “ Oh, yes ! 
you midges,” she continued, “ I know it is not a pretty 
name; but Aunt Hannah is enormously rich, and has no 
one in particular to bequeath her money to, and never 
tells any one what she is going to do with it. She is a 
lone creature, and who knows but it would give her a 
new interest to have our little one called after her ; she 
might be enough pleased to make it her heir, and the 
very least she could do for the compliment would be to 
leave it a handsome sum for its name ! ” and the 
worldly old lady looked triumphantly around her as if 
she had unquestionably propounded a final satisfactory 
solution to the difficulty. There was a momentary 
pause ; even the most thoughtless and gushing of the 
Aunties saw the possible good thing for the Baby in 
the proposed arrangement, and had not the heart to 
venture a word against the chance of a prospective for- 
tune for the general darling ; while the elder people 
waited in evident anxiety for the parents’ reply, and 
Baby crowed away in happy unconsciousness of schem- 
ing sapience. But the Young Father’s face flushed, 


38 


XAHIXG THE BAB 'l. 


and the Young Mother lifted her graceful head a little 
haughtily, as she emphatically answered : 

“ No, mamma, I will not lay upon my child’s clean 
life the stain of mercenary motive ! Not for all Aur.t 
Hannah owns would I have my Baby grow up to know 
I bad been so mean as to use its precious name as a 
bait to catch money ! How could I teach her higher 
things when she had learned 1 thought so much of 
gold ? I could never look Aunt Hannah straight in the 
face again ; I should be sure of her suspicion of design, 
and I should feel as if I had given over Baby and my- 
self to a degrading bondage of expectation depending 
on another’s death ! I will trust her good fortune to 
God ; we must not stoop for it ! ” 

Grandfather No. One rapped approval with his gold- 
headed cane and ejaculated, “ Spoken like my own 
brave lass!” Grandfather No. Two said, with just a 
perceptible inflection of disappointment, “ When she 
comes to our age she will have found out that money 
more useful than pride!” The relieved Young 
Aunties clapped their applauding hands, and the hus- 
band leaned over and kissed the delicate cheek, a triuc 
paler from the unusual act of self-assertion against 


NAMING THE BABY. 


39 


maternal guidance, while the defeated Grandmother 
rustled her shining black silk, and grew rather redder 
in her ruddy face, as she somewhat testily exclaimed, 
“ W ell then, what are you going to name the child for, 
and who are you going to call it after ? ” 

A soft blush suffused the Young Mother’s tender 
face, that had bent over her cooing Baby, and her 
voice took even a sweeter melody as she replied : 

“ Since we have been talking it over, quite a new 
thought has come to me about Baby’s name. Nurse 
says that people grow like their names, but I myself 
have observed that children, in time, resemble the 
persons they are called for ; I suppose they naturally 
feel a peculiar interest in and try to imitate those 
whose name they bear; and there is one we know 
whom 1 should like my little girl to model after, one 
who is good, and pure, and true ; who lias kept a white 
soul through dark days and hard times ; who has beeu 
faithful in all things, thinking more of others than of 
herself ; never faltering in the path of right, and more 
nobly fearless before a wrong than any man I ever 
saw ; who is a ministering spirit to us all, and worthy 
of the best we can give her ; who lives humbly among 


40 


NAMING THE BABY. 


men, but never forgets the presence of her God!’* 
And the Young Mother rose up with her Baby in her 
arms, and stood before the Poor Relation. “ And so, 
dear Cousin Mary,” she said, “ because I would have 
my child grow like you, will you let me give her your 
name \ ” 

And the Poor Relation was so surprised and over- 
come at being thus honored in the midst of them all, 
that she could scarcely speak ; and the Father warmly 
seconded his wife’s requests, and the rest crowded 
quickly around her, shook her hands, and made her 
feel they were glad of the choice ; for somehow the 
Young Mother’s little speech had suddenly set her be- 
fore them in clearer light than they were used to see 
her, and the beauty of her unobtrusive life glorified 
her for a moment even more than the accepted fact 
that she was henceforth an important member of the 
family, since the first grandchild had been named after 
her. And the worldly old Grandmother forgot the ups 
and downs of the past and future, and magnanimously 
said to her : “ My daughter is wiser in her generation 
than I ; it is better to be good than wealthy ; ” while 
the Fat Nurse, having sat the whole visit through, in 


NAMING TI1E BABY. 


41 


order to satisfy lier curiosity as to what would be the 
end of it. tied her bonnet-strings in the crease of her 
double chin, picked up the portly basket and stout 
cmbrella, ejaculating, “ It's a heap more sensible then 
joadyin’ rich folks in the cradle ! ” and trotted off with 
very much the same motion as that which shook up so 
many infantile breakfasts. And then the family meet- 
ing broke up, wending their way in groups, talking it 
over still as they went. 

As the Poor Relation walked homeward, there was a 
i hining in her eyes, a color in her cheeks, and a light- 
ness in her step, that had not been there for many a 
day ; the sun was brighter to her, the skies bluer, the 
fields greener, than she had ever seen them since her 
vanished youth ; she was full of yearning thoughts of 
the little one and its mother ; she even said over her 
own name to herself with a little happy laugh that was 
half a sob of delight too ; and she paused once to lift 
up her soul in an earnest, aspiring prayer that her 
Father in heaven would help her to keep her name 
worthy to be worn by the pure spirit whose angel be- 
held His face. She felt as if she had a partnership in 
this new being forever; it was a fresh an l solemn liuk 


4-2 


NAMING THE BABY. 


to life and eternity. A rush of love for it flooded her 
heart, and she, who had neither husband nor child, 
understood for a moment the blissful sense of mother- 
hood. But when she reached the vine-wreathed porch 
where her Aged Father and Mother sat together in the 
declining golden sun, she sank down on the steps at 
their feet, and could only cry like a very touched and 
tender woman, as she told in her sweet and simple way 
about this Naming of the Baby. 


m. 


OHE OF THE AUNTIE8. 

Everybody said that there never was such a Baby, 
and being the first one for many years in two very 
large families, there were plenty of voices to ring per- 
petual changes of admiration on its growing beauties 
and graces ; especially were the Young Aunties — that 
gay and gushing troop of happy girls, enthusiastic over 
the little treasure of human life that made such funny 
passes at their bright ribbons with its tiny dots of 
hands, or crowed with delight in answer to their un- 
wearied efforts at entertainment. Kever did any other 
baby born into this world possess such lovely eyes, or 
such bewitching dimples, or such beautiful golden 
rings of hair ! The flesh of all infants is soft, but 
surely none other ever had such a pure and velvety 
skin ! And oh, the little pink-soled feet ! was there 
ever anything on earth so cunning and so tender a 9 


44 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


those plump, helpless activities tipped with such mi- 
nute and perfect bits of toes ? Then the intelligence of 
tli is precious pet ! IIow they chronicled among them- 
selves its dawning smiles, and its pin-provoked percep- 
tions of pain — symbol of many another torture that life 
endures from unperceived moral pin-pricks. IIow 
they saw intellect written on its expanding brow, and 
detected offered kisses in the dewy mouth pouting with 
undissipated dream of milky draught ! And the like- 
nesses they perceived, even in the scarcely defined nose 
and decidedly double chin ! And the predictions they 
made of romantic destinies in the future, and the 
delight and wonder and half -motherliness they all had 
over this live doll, that somehow stirred up the woman- 
hearts of these untried natures into vague longings and 
instinctive sympathies! Every morning, when the 
Young Mother went through her greatest enjoyment of 
giving her Baby its daily bath with her own hands, 
there was sure also to be a fair and smiling Auntie 
beside the little tub to sing or chirrup down the faint, 
gasping cry at the first plunge in the clear water, to 
plash with rosy fingers the warm, lucid drops over the 
fat and dimpled shoulders, or to watch with dancing 


ONE OF THE AUNTIES . 


45 


eyes the round, white limbs kicking up the shining 
waves against the soft, bare body, and the Baby would 
crow up to the Young Mother aud the Young Auntie, 
and they would chorus the crow, and laugh back 
together in so sweet and innocent happiness, and talk 
broken English to their darling both at once, till it was 
better than any play to see, and a sort of unwritten 
poem of the pure joy of humanity. 

And never was a Baby that had apparently as many 
needs as this one ; never were a deft set of Aunties so 
busy in providing superfluities of worsted and embroid- 
ery ; patterns became their chief interest, and new 
designs their perpetual quest ; knitting-needles clicked 
constantly, and coquettish crochet-baskets hung grace- 
fully from the silken belts ; and the result was that 
Baby had socks enough for a centipede, small blankets 
sufficient to clothe a moderate-sized tribe of Afghans, 
more bibs than would protect the undeveloped necks of 
an orphan asylum, and sacks and caps and wraps of all 
shapes and materials enough to have fitted out half 
a dozen destitute missionary boxes ; and in fact the 
perplexed Young Mother did surreptitiously bestow up- 
on less favored infancy many a donation from the over 


46 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


flowing wardrobe of this fortunate mite. But the gem 
erous Young Aunties did not miss anything ; they had 
time and zephyrs in plenty, love and leisure in full ; ro 
they went on industriously increasing the store, and 
glowing over their ow r n good works. 

Once, on a sunny morning, one of the brighest, and 
gayest, and cheeriest of the Young Aunties set out for 
the Baby’s home with another new gift for the 
precious little one — a light, white, dainty thing, fleecy 
as a cloud and warm as the eider-duck’s down. She did 
not step out quite as briskly or into as springy a walk 
as the Young Aunties generally were wont to do, for 
there was an air of expectancy in the lingering pace, and 
a sort of watchful, yet timid hope in the lustrous hazel 
eyes, which betokened that some one could gladden 
the sight thereof. But suddenly the walk quickened 
a little, and the white lids dropped their curled lashes 
upon the flushing cheek, as a tall figure hove in view 
with an unmistakable sea-roll in the gait, and then 
there was a greeting, lialf-cordial and half-shy, and the 
handsome Young Sailor turned about and walked on 
with the Young Auntie. Suddenly for those two — 
chatting lightly of this thing and that, of the weather at 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


47 


home and on the ocean waves, of the last party and the 
latest news, even of the Baby in their blithe and bliss- 
ful mood — for those two all the common way before 
them was changed to a golden street; the soft air 
intoxicated them with gladness, and the sunshine 
seemed to fold round them warm and bright, as if to 
shut out all the rest of the world, and life was beauti- 
ful on the happy earth as in those ancient days of inno- 
cence and Eden, for they were young, they were 
together, and their hearts were trembling with the joy 
of a yet unspoken dream. For this gallant officer, who 
had more than once faced death undaunted by danger, 
and undismayed by stormy winds of tempest or of 
battle, had never found courage to speak three little 
words to the fair girl whom he loved better than his 
life. And she, oh ! be sure, she was guy and gleeful 
with him, and believed she gave no sign of the sweet- 
secret that tinted her soft cheeks whenever he drew 
near, and filled the sparkling eyes with such new and 
tender light. At last they reached the Baby’s home, 
and he was loth to leave her, and she longed for him to 
linger; so upoa half a hint she breathed an invitation, 
that seemed like a blessing, for him to come into the 


4S 


ONE OF TEE AUNTIES. 


Louse and wait till she had given the Baby her gift, 
and then — oh, then they both knew there would be 
another walk back upon the golden street ! 

But as the young man sat waiting in the quiet parlor 
while the Young Auntie ran upstairs to caress the Baby 
and present the last marvellous effort in zephyrs, he saw 
her still before him ; it seemed to him that he should 
always see her as he had looked upon her that morning 
in her youth, and grace, and peerless beauty ; that she 
could never change or grow old to him, but would for 
ever and ever live in his heart as fresh, as pure, as en- 
chanting as to-day — his first true love, the one woman in 
all the world for him. And after a mental spasm of 
great humility as to his own un worthiness, and an in 
ward reproof of his own presumption in aspiring to tlui 
love of a being so angelic, there came into his mind a 
nervous impatience of any longer delay in learning his 
fate, and he determined that, come what would, h6 
would ask her to be his before they parted again that 
da} ; but how to do it, oh! how to do it? That was the 
question he was revolving in uneasy perplexity, when, 
pit-a-pat, he caught the tapping sound of her tiny, high- 
heeled boots, and his heart leaped as she stood before 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


49 


him again. Was it a mere artifice of feminine coquetry, 
or was it some deeper womanly instinct, that liad made 
her throw off her hat and bring down the Baby in her 
girlish arms to show the embarrassed Young Sailor the 
Family Pride, of whose infantile perfections he had 
heard so much from the adoring Aunties ? And the 
Baby cooed, and the Young Auntie chirruped, bending 
her bright face over the downy little head that nestled 
against her bosom ; and a new vision flashed into the 
lover’s dream — the sweet vision of wife and child upon 
hearthstone of his own — the first vague, longing sense of 
fatherhood inherent in man’s nature awoke at the recog- 
nition of the intuitive motherliness in the woman’s; it 
added a strong and tender yearning to the passionate 
love ; it calmed the unquiet of his doubts, and steadied 
his trembling purpose, as with almost conscious 
ownership he leaned over the Baby and its bonny 
nurse. 

“ Just listen to its darling baby-talk ! ” cried she, de- 
iighted with Baby’s amiability in showing off. “ Oh, 
you precious petty, coo — coo — coo ! ” 

“ Coo — coo — coo ! ” gurgled back the echoing tones 

from the little dot of a rosy mouth. 

4 


50 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


“ Do you understand that sort of language ? ” quietly 
the bold Young Sailor asked. 

" Of course,” was the indignant reply ; “ everybody 
that has anything to do with a baby knows just what it 
means ; there, it is coo-cooing now to tell you it under- 
stands all you say ! ” 

“ Then, Baby,” he gravely said, and somehow he 
caught the tiny ball of a fist and the young girl’s little 
white hand both at once in his big brown one, “ tell 
your dear Auntie how truly I love her, and how much I 
hope to call her mine ! ” 

It was all done, and the Young Auntie never knew 
what she answered, or how it came to pass ; but she and 
Baby were gathered up together in the strong arms, and 
half-laughing, half-crying, she soothed the Baby’s aston- 
ished cry between the first kisses of first love. When 
the Young Mother heard the faint echo of that sudden, 
sharp wail, she sped unsuspectingly down-stairs to see 
what was happening to her child ; and, as she floated 
into the room, she read the old, old story that was being 
told over again with her Baby in the midst thereof — her 
Baby, that was now gazing up with wise, wide eyes into 
the Young Auntie’s blushing countenance, and was so 


ONE OF THE AUNTIES. 


51 


encircled by two pairs of arms that she scarcely knew 
which to take it from ; but after a loving embrace and 
a hear :y hand-shake, she carried Baby off at last, recall- 
ing her own cherished love-tale, and left the happy 
young lovers to themselves. 

Soon after this there was a gay wedding, with a long 
train of the other Young Aunties for bridesmaids, and 
a grand show of uniforms, and a bright glancing of 
naval buttons that made Baby’s eyes dance with delight, 
for Baby was particularly and pressingly invited to the 
marriage ; and when the gray-haired minister solemnly 
asked, “ Who giveth this woman to be married to this 
man?” cooed out so loud and so long that a general 
smile burst out among the audience, and even made 
rainbows in the Grandmother’s glistening tears. 

Then, in a little while, there was one of those sad 
partings that wring the life from out young hearts, and 
a gallant ship had gone to sea, while a fair bride was 
left at home to count the days of absence. 

Then came watchings for interminable letters, anx- 
ious suspense over a single missing mail, shudders at 
news of storms and disasters on the ocean, and a gradual 
sedateness, growing from an absorbing interest, settling 


52 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


the gushing gayety of girlhood. Then there was an 
unusual silence ; more than one appointed time passed 
away and brought no letter ; a frightened, far-off look 
clouded the old brightness of sparkling eyes, and even 
the postman hurried with averted head more swiftly 
by the wistful face watching him from the window, 
knowing well that among the many messages he car- 
ried of love and life and death, there was none foi 
her. And then at last there was published the awful 
news that thrilled the land — the ship he sailed in had 
gone down at sea, and every soul on board had 
perished. 

The worst anguish of life had fallen’ on her— rsuch 
agony as comes but once to a woman, and pales forever 
the storied tortures of the Burning Lake ; that takes all 
values out of the things of this world, in which eternity 
becomes comprehensible through the infinitude of 
suffering, and the terrible solitude of the spirit which 
for the time is reached and touched by nought in the 
universe, neither God nor man. She sat in the midst 
of mourning friends, but shed no tear; all the great 
salt waves of the unfathomed ocean were sweeping 
over him ; tears of hers could not even fall upon his 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 


53 


g^ave ; words of tenderness, of consolation, of hope 
beyond the tomb, were spoken to her ; she heard only 
the moaning sound of the never silent sea ; day and 
night, in her thoughts and in her dreams, she saw a ship 
go down into the deep, and beheld the cruel and 
hungry waters sweeping over the swaying form of liei 
dead. She sat in darkness, for the light of day was 
a mockery; she rose up and lay down as she was 
directed, but she neither spoke nor noticed any living 
being save the gentle Poor Relation, whose mission 
on earth seemed to be that of ministering to those sick 
and in affliction ; she appeared to have a dim percep- 
tion, born of that insight into another’s grief that 
personal endurance sometimes gives, that here too was 
a lonely soul that had suffered loss and known sorrow’s 
worst extreme, and in a mute, pathetic fashion she 
clung to her a little, following her movements with 
her listless glance, and laying her weary head upon the 
patient breast. One day, the old family doctor, who 
had held her in his arms when she had uttered life’s 
first gasping cry, came from her room with a troubled 
face, saying softly in tremulous tones, “ She must weep, 
or she will die.” And they gathered about her — all 


54 


ONE OF THE AUNTIES. 


those she most loved — the Mother and the Father and 
all the saddened Young Aunties, and talked tenderly 
Ivefore her of her lost husband ; praised his beauty and 
his ways, his courage and his worth, and raised up their 
voices and wept for him in her presence. She rocked 
herself back and forth, and moaned as they spoke, but 
6he listened with dry eyes still, and a touching terror 
pervaded the hushed household. 

But one day, when the Boor Relation necessarily 
returned to her own home, she entered the chamber 
where her Crippled Sister, with tireless fingers, wove 
embroidered flowers into fine, flowing muslin, and lo ! 
she was softly keeping time to the leaf-forming stitches 
with the plaintive rhythm of Tennyson’s sweet song, 
“ Home they brought her warrior dead.” Oh, what a 
thought flashed into the Poor Relation’s mind ! Out 
of the house she flew like a bird, and with swift feet 
fled along the way that had been to the lovers a golden 
street, and breathless, entered the nursery where Baby 
slept the rosy sleep of innocence. 

A few explanatory words to the sympathetic Y oung 
Mother, pale also with sisterly anxiety, and Baby was 
lifted out of its warm nest, fortified with lequisite 


ONE OF THE AUNTIES. 


55 


refreshment, and wrapped in the very white and fluffy 
tiling that the Young Auntie had brought it on the 
eventful morning of her love ; and then back with bur- 
dened arms and swelling heart sped the Poor Relation 
to the sorrow-stricken dwelling. She crossed the shad- 
owed room unnoticed, and softly laid the little one on 
the widowed breast. For the first time the pallid lips 
quivered, and Baby — the blessed Baby — looked up into 
the drawn and colorless face, and cooed and cooed as if 
it had brought a message. Then, at the sweet, familiar 
6ound, the tears burst out, and flowed and flowed, and 
great sobs shook her fragile frame, and the Poor Rela- 
tion cried also, and the tears of the two women mingled 
and fell fast like fountains upon the Baby, till Baby 
began to feel very damp, and so joined in and took a 
good cry too. 

Every day after that the Poor Relation came on her 
errand of mercy, bearing the Baby, whose unconscious 
ministry was softening this stony grief; for wifehood 
may pass away, widowhood may be overlived, but the 
sense of motherhood that has been or might have been, 
lies very deep in the heart of a woman. But one day, 
as she entered the house, Baby was suddenly snatched 


56 


ONE OF THE AUNTIES. 


away from her, all the Young Aunties seemed to clutch 
her at once, and half carried her into the presence of a 
sunburned Sailor, who caught her in his strong embraco 
as if she had been his own sister. And then was tola 
the wonderful story of the wreck, and the rescue by a 
nomeward-bound but slow-sailing vessel, and a chorus 
of carefully toned voices repeated, “ And now, Cousin 
Mary, you must tell her, you must tell her right 
away ! ” 

Once more in the lonely and darkened chamber, tho 
Poor Relation put her arms around the pale girl-wife, 
who wondered now why she had come without tho 
Baby. 

“My darling, I have brought you something even 
sweeter than the Baby,” was the gentle answer ; “ a 
very gospel, dear heart ; good tidings of great joy.” 

“ Joy to me, Cousin Mary ? Oh, never again ! The 
awful sound of the sea shuts out all good tidings from 
me forever.” 

“ But, dear child,” and the Poor Relation held her 
very close to her own beating heart, “ you know we are 
told of a time when the sea shall give up its dead. 
Sometimes, oh, sometimes, it is not only at the last day ! 


ONE OF THE A UNTIES. 57 

Ships go down, but other ships are on the waters, and 
oil, darling, darling, sailors are sometimes saved !” 

Joy rarely kills. She rose quickly up, she pushed 
away the encircling embrace, a faint flush flashed into 
her wan face and a light into her eyes ; she stretched 
her arms towards the door, she cried out, wold with a 
new hope, “ Oh, Cousin Mary, he has come home, he 
has come home ! ” 

The door flew open. There was a rush and a rapture 
of meeting like the bliss of heaven. The sea had given 
up its dead. And as the Poor Relation slipped out, the 
Mother kissed her in the entry, the Father shook both 
her hands upon the stairs, and all the Young Aunties 
hugged her and Baby alternately, for was it not her 
happy thought that had chased death and saved the 
sister for her husband ? And it was once more Baby 
who had given this woman to this man. 


IV. 


baby’s nubse. 

The Young Mother was in despair; Baby was no 
light weight, and her heart was heavy ; her arms were 
tired, and her mind was worried ; because for nearly 
two weeks the Young Mother had been Baby’s only 
nurse. Not that all ministrations for her child were not 
sweet and holy as ever; not that Baby’s little body w T as 
not more precious than fine gold; but the extra care 
and fatigue added to her other duties, the confinement 
to the house, the weariness of an imperative work which 
required attention to be constantly on the alert and yet 
left no trace of its exaction, was beginning to tell on 
her whole nature, of which the flesh was weaker than 
the willing spirit. For the Young Mother had had 
6ad experiences of helps and hinderances in the shape of 
Nursemaids; she had come to consider Baby’s life as a 
“brand snatched from the burning” of incompetency 


BABY'S NURSE. 


59 


and ignorance, and, from the utter carelessness and un- 
motherliness of those who went about as accomplished 
handmaids, had almost been inclined to credit the doc- 
trine of total depravity. So that she had grown cau- 
tious and particular in her selection of a new girl ; and 
having conceived certain transcendental ideas that at 
the root of all service to humanity, whether from high 
or low, there must be Love as an inspirer and instigator 
of faithful duty, it was not very likely she would very 
soon find requisite fineness in the Hibernian materia] 
that generally applied for the situation, with a much 
stronger interest in wages and perquisites than in the 
labor and tenderness which was expected for them. 

And if Baby could have spoken in any other lan- 
guage than a coo and a cry, what a tale the small crea- 
ture could have unfolded of torments manifold and in- 
fantile endurance ! of the brawny Celt who tossed the 
tiny form in the air, too frightened to make vocal pro- 
test, and who trotted her bony limbs persistently, knead- 
ing the sensitive flesh with bumps and bruises, and who 
vigorously stuck promiscuous pins through the soft rai- 
ment without the slightest regard to the position of the 
points; of the sly, sleek “ prof essioner,” who surrepti 


60 


BABY'S NURSE. 


tiously administered paregoric that she might slip away 
to the pious enjoyment of love-feasts with an admirer 
who waited at the back gate; of the French bonne, 
whose broken chatter banished sleep and whose solo 
idea of infant needs was confined to a perambulator on 
the most crowded streets; of the middle-aged familiar, 
whose “ sober and honest ” character was attested by a 
private bottle which proved detrimental to her charge 
to the extent of sundry knocks and falls; and of tho 
half-grown assistance who ate up all the pap, and pro- 
claimed aloud that “ Baby was wisibly sweUin’ with too 
much stuffin.” 

It seemed as if through the very innocence and help- 
lessness of her Baby tho Young Mother had first learned 
the moral destitution, the lack of all sense of responsi- 
bility which leavens so much human nature with wick- 
edness and vice ; it made her heart-sick sometimes to 
feel her trust in her fellow-creatures so rudely disturbed, 
and to comprehend how much the lower strata of peo- 
ple required educating and elevating ; yet, as she knew 
from her own experience that men and women were 
not all alike, and that the world held sweetest and best 
as well as warped and worst, so she kept also her faith 


BABY'S NURSE. 


61 


tnat even in the hardest and basest there was something, 
if it could be got at, by which each might be lifted to 
a higher level ; and as she pondered these things often 
in the pure charity of her soul, she had the strong long- 
ing of impressible spirits to instruct and uplift the 
ignorant and the evil ; only in these individual cases 
her own environment proved too strong for her, and 
.Baby’s life, health, and comfort were too dear and too 
important to afford time and patience for experiment. 
So, witii her instincts sharpened by fresh knowledge 
and maternal anxiety, she watched and waited for 
another servitor in whom feeling and fidelity should 
equal self-interest, and control the enmity cultivated 
towards employers. She grew too to understand that 
if her overflowing mother’s love was not proof against 
the monotony and weariness of care-taking, it could 
hardly be considered an unmitigated privilege by a 
stranger to have the constant guardianship of the most 
angelic baby that ever breathed ; and a great compas- 
sion fell upon her for those to whom labor, unlightened 
by affection, is a necessity and a grievance. 

So day after day went by, and as ore after anothei 
candidate for the place was rejected, the sympathetic 


02 


BABY'S NURSE. 


Grandmothers, who had hopefully haunted Intelligence 
Offices, began to think she was too hard to suit, and \ 
were inclined to leave her to her own devices at last in 
the search. The hearty Grandfathers told her she was 
getting thin and pale with her impracticable fancies, 
and that she had better put up with any Bridget that 
came along, rather than wear out her youth and beauty 
in a hunt for the undiscoverable ; and even the Young 
Husband gently reproved her for supposing she could 
ever receive heart- work for hire. The Young Aunties 
fluttered in, turn about, with sisterly desire to help and 
relieve ; they each chirped and played a little while 
with delighted Baby, like the veriest bright and happy 
children, and while the novelty lasted Baby responded 
to their enthusiasm and entertainment with all gladness 
and gayety that called forth an unfailing ingenuity of 
pet names. But when Baby’s attention was no longer 
to be cajoled with caressing tones or tapping on the 
window-panes ; w T hen it came to the uninteresting task 
of holding for any length of time a growing and un- 
mindful weight ; when there were unaccountable wails 
to be soothed, and distracting screams to be pacified or 
explained, then the Young Aunties felt that they had 


BABY'S NURSE. 


63 


mistaken their vocation, and looked so forlorn and 
tired, and tried so hard to be patient, that the Young 
Mother always made some excuse to release them, and 
contrived to send them home without having their con- 
fidence entirely shaken in Baby’s perfections. But the 
Poor Relation came in occasionally when she could 
spare time, and gladly gave the Young Mother some 
little comfortable rest, while Baby nestled contentedly 
in the willing arms that never wearied of well-doing, 
and who, while she thus eased another’s burden, for- 
got her own awhile, as, looking into the tiny face, she 
dreamed many a dream of the might have been. 

It was now one of those rare and lovely days, when 
Summer, lingering long through the Autumn, brings 
all that she can of light and heat and color to crown 
her ensuing departure ; when the warmth was like 
early June, and the sky a July heaven, while through 
all the air was a soft and scarcely perceptible haze 
which sheds upon the October world that indescribable 
pensiveness which is not sadness, and yet which tem- 
pers joy. And to indulge in this last spell of the sea- 
son’s sweetness, the Young Mother had brought Baby 
to the open parlor window, who looked out in serene 


64 


BABY'S NURSE. 


quietude at opposite trees and passing sights. There was 
a solemn stillness in the atmosphere, such as sometimes 
comes with the changing of the leaves, as if nature 
waited in sweet expectancy of crimson and gold for the 
coming silence of the snows or the gathering storms of 
winter, and the whole circumstance of time and condi- 
tions touched and filled the gentle heart with yearning 
without pain which lies among those deep things of 
God which brings the divine into human life. As she 
6at there, holding her Baby in her arms, a woman 
came slowly along on the other side and paused before 
the window — a woman, haggard, jaded, dust-stained ; 
young in years as the Young Mother* but with the 
flowers of youth withered on the pale cheeks and pallid 
mouth. An image of desolate dejection, she had moved 
on till Baby’s face caught her aimless sight, and wild 
light flashed into her dreary eyes ; she tossed up her 
arms and stood still, looking over with such hungry, 
wistful gaze as made her whole pitiful figure almost 
pathetic ; then, as if involuntarily drawn by an irrcsio 
tible attraction, she crossed the street and came close to 
the house. The Young Mother shrank just a little, for 
at the first moment she thought the poor creature was 


BABY'S NURSE. 


65 


insane; but her innate delicacy prevented her from 
showing fear or aversion, and the mood of the day and 
season was still upon her ; besides, such a thin, thin 
hand was laid upon the sill, and such a wan, eager 
countenance was lifted to her own, that her compas- 
sion welled up into words. 

“ What is it? ” she said with such womanly sympa* 
thy in her voice that it was like balm to the wounded. 
“ Are you sick, or in want? Can I help you? ” 

And the woman gave a short, gasping sob, and 
stretched out her hands to her. “ Only let me kiss 
your baby ! ” she cried. 

The Young Mother naturally hesitated, but the 
woman went on. 

“ Oh, it is so long since I have seen a baby ! Ah, 
Madam ! you are good, you are happy ; you don’t know 
sorrow ; you don’t know sin ; you don’t know what it 
is to have lost your baby and to go about the world 
with empty arms and despairing heart. Mine is gone — 
gone ! but it seems to me if a baby’s pure lips could 
but touch mine again, I would be more fit to die ! ” 

With an intuition like an inspiration the Young 

Mother saw that this being had wronged her own worn 
5 


66 


BABY'S NURSE. 


anliood, and had suffered through her motherhood ; 
that the sin and the suffering had been too great for 
her to bear, and that she was about to take her life to 
end it all. An exceeding pity flashed the tears into her 
eyes ; the sin shocked her, but the evident suffering 
and punishment atoned. She could not send away, 
perhaps to her death, another fellow-creature, if a word 
or deed of hers might stay her; a woman, poor, wan, 
and distressed, who wanted nothing but a baby’s kiss, 
was surely worth saving ; a woman who grieved for a 
dead baby must have that in her that a little child could 
lead ; and perhaps the dear Father in Heaven had sent 
this fallen sister to her Baby for redemption ! She 
paused a little space as these thoughts filled her mind — 
paused, looking down into the sad face, over which 
there gradually rose a deep flush of shame as the silence 
was misinterpreted into scorn ; then the worn figure 
turned to go away with a fresh bitterness gathering in 
the heart. But the Young Mother leaned forward, and 
laid a hand on her shoulder. “Wait!” she said, and 
rose up from the window. She went to the door with 
her baby on her breast, passed down the steps, took the 
thin hand in her own, and led the surprised woman into 


BABY'S NUBS JR. 


67 


the house — into the house and upstairs to her own 
chamber, placed her in her own low chair, and laid the 
Baby in her arms. Bewildered by this unexpected 
kindness, the woman sat silent ; but when the soiled bon- 
net was gently removed, and a soft touch smoothed her 
hair, she looked up into the sweet face bending over 
her, and beheld there such a loving sympathy, that ail 
the flood-gates were opened, and she lifted up her heart 
and wept — wept as the Young Mother had never seen 
any one weep before, with the speechless agony of an 
overcharged spirit, till at last the other, in the fulness 
of compassion, put her arms about her and rested the 
drooping head upon her pure bosom ; and after a while, 
when there came a peace after the tempest of tears, she 
brought food and water, that cleansing and refreshing 
might give strength and comfort ; and when her strange 
guest thanked her in broken tones, she said, tenderly 
as one would touch a bleeding sore : 

“ Would you mind telling me your story ? Maybe it 
will give me some idea of how I can help you.” 

The woman wrung her hands. “ Ah ! you have been 
go good, so good ! ” she cried. “ Let me go, let me go 1 
There is no help for such as I ! There is nothing left, 


68 


BABY'S NURSE. 


nothing, but to get out of the world ! You have held 
my head upon your breast, you have put your clean 
arms about me, you have given your Baby into mine! 
That is enough I You might be sorry, if you knew all 
bout me, that you ever touched or spoke to me ! Oh, 
let me go ! ” 

But the Young Mother held her, and pleaded with 
her, and bade her believe that her heart w r as not a 
stone ; that because of their mutual womanhood and 
motherhood she could not let her go forth again with- 
out some effort to do her good ; that they were alone 
there with God and each other, and she might speak 
freely, if thereby might come healing to her; that she 
must not think of judgment and condemnation, but 
only that she was bringing her sorrow to a sister and a 
friend. Then the woman wept again, but tenderness 
prevailed, and after a little she told all her miserable 
tale — told it with tears and terrible effort — told it with 
m affected earnestness and simple pathos — told it as one 
only tells a heart-history in the supreme crisis of an 
unhappy life. 

She was left an orphan when too young to remember 
her parents, and had been taken in charge by some dis- 


BABY'S NURSE. 


69 


tant relatives wlio owned a large and lucrative farm. 
They were cold, selfish, puritanical people, with too 
much pride to let one of their own blood go to the 
poor-house — whose sole idea of child-training was filling 
the stomach and clothing the back, and who were only 
kind because the} 7 had no provocation to be otherwise, 
for this child grew to be sufficiently useful to earn all 
she received. She had been educated at the country 
school, where, having absorbed all there was to teach, 
she had learned, among other acquirements, to keep 
accounts and sew beautifully ; so that she willingly 
acted as clerk and seamstress, and took her share in the 
lighter labors of her home. She looked after and loved 
the dumb creatures, with a friendliness the greater that 
6he had not many human interests. The cows and 
horses knew her, the sheep came at her call, the poultry 
clustered round her, and the pigeons lighted on her 
shoulders; she made hay in the fields, picked wild 
flowers in the woods, berries by the brookside. Even 
her duties were light to her, because youth and health 
sets a glad heart singing at even the heaviest work; 
and altogether she lived a peaceful, happy, idyllic life, 
till womanhood imperceptibly dawned on her, ignorant 


I o 


BABY'S NURSE. 


as a little child about everything except her own expe- 
rience, and scarcely conscious that there was any larger 
world beyond the limits of the farm. 

Then came a day when one was thrown from his hors6 
in a roadside near by, and with much hurt carried into 
the house, to be laid down for weeks of weariness and 
pain ; he was left pretty much to her care and attend- 
ance, for the elder people had too much to do — little pa- 
tience with the delicate requirement of sickness and 
refinement. Then came the long, bright summer hours 
of convalescence, when, with books brought from the 
city, he opened up a new world to the young girl sitting 
at his feet, with upraised face all aglow, drinking in the 
poetry of love and the poison of unconscious passion. 
The young simplicity, the unworldly trust, the tender 
face were fair and sweet to the ennuied man of the 
world, and to the fickle sense gave the new attraction of 
change from familiar interests. And so, not being en- 
tirely a fiend, without perhaps intending evil, he won 
the unreasoning worship of an unconventional heart; 
while her careless guardians noticed nothing, consider- 
ing her still a child, after the fashion of those who do 
not realize the growing years in others, and ha re no 


BABY'S NURSE. 71 

particular intuition of affection to guide them to the 
truth. 

At last the days and he urs of his stay were numbered ; 
time and occasion stirred the man’s uncontrolled blood. 
Cunning words were spoken ; practised eloquence be- 
witched ; vows and promises were made — and how was 
this inexperienced girl to know the true from the false? 
All the centred and innate love, which had hitherto 
found so little response, was poured out like water from 
a pure fount. And she was so innocent — so innocent 
and untaught, and felt only that Love was sacred, and 
conceived of no evil that could come of it ; cared only 
that she was his — his, body and soul, and rejoiced that 
she had all her life before her to think of and adore him. 
Only the bitter pain of parting stabbed her happy dream, 
and the days grew suddenly long and lonely, weighed 
upon her waiting spirit, buoyed up also with the sure 
hope that he would come again. She thought it was his 
continued absence, her morning expectation and nightly 
disappointment, the yearning wonder of unbroken trust 
that no word ever came to her, which made her step so 
heavy, her face so wan, and her work so tiresome and 
distasteful. She was so innocent — so innocent and igno 


72 


BABY'S NURSE. 


rant that she comprehended neither her physical suffer* 
ing, or even that she had sinned. Some interior sense 
— not shame, but surprise and uneasiness — made her 
hide herself from curious looks and significant glances, 
until, in her very innocence and ignorance, feeling as if 
life was slipping away from her, and that she could not, 
must not die till he came to her again, she must needs ask 
relief from her pain. Then was opened upon her the tor- 
rent of questions and reproach, scorn and knowledge, and 
thus she learned that she had sinned and fallen, and was 
no more fit to dwell with the virtuous and right-minded. 
Confused and crushed, maddened by jibe and curse, she 
fled away to the great city where he lived, to search for 
him there, and find love, and rest, and justice. She had 
little money and no friends, so she managed to get enough 
needlework from the stores to give her sustenance while 
she walked the streets week after week, looking into the 
faces of the passers-by, always watching, always search 
ing, foi she knew naught of him but his name — and in 
a large metropolis what is one man in the myriad of 
rushing throngs ? Up and down, back and forth, night 
and day, in sunshine and in rain, in frost and snow she 
went, with her wistful eyes and sinking soul ; always 


BABY'S NURSE. 


73 


watching, always searching ; keeping hope alive with 
his remembered words; clinging still to her faith in 
him, because she yet knew so little of the world and 
humanity. Up and down, back and forth, after nights 
of tears and through days of anguish, in cold, and hun- 
ger, and bodily torment, till nature could hold out no 
more, and she fell fainting by the way, to be picked up 
as a cumberer of the streets and sent to one of those 
hospitals with which charity sanctifies the worst Baby- 
lon. Here her baby was born, and upon the darkness 
of her despairing desolation there fell the solemn and 
awful sweetness of a mother’s love, that mighty and 
instinctive gush of tenderness with which a woman en- 
velops the one thing which is indeed her very own. 

But she would not linger, even for her child’s sake , 
and with her infant in her arms, she sought work, and 
again commenced her w'eary search. Sometimes, when 
rare opportunity occurred, she asked for him ; but as she 
came in contact with none of his order, she received no 
information; and once again she haunted the streets, 
always looking for the one face she never saw. But 
her baby comforted her. Like Correggio’s Madonna, 
she knelt before it worshipping, felt as if an angel 


74 


BABY'S NURSE . 


dwelt with her ; knew herself to be purified and foi 
given in the divine eyes by the holiness of her mother- 
hood, and her heart and hope waxed strong in her body 
weakened by want and exposure. But one day, even 
more restless than usual with her ever constant waiting, 
she had gone abroad, up and down, back and forth, 
watching and searching still, till she came upon a crowd 
gathered about a church door, looking for a new-made 
bri^e to come forth in the splendor of wealth and the 
glory of beauty ; the wedding-bells rang gayly through 
the clear air ; the merry group chatted and jested ; the 
fine carriages blocked up the highway. She stood still, 
as she did in all such muste rings to gaze expectantly on 
the faces around, never thinking of the couple that the 
white-robed priest was blessing in the midst of a stately 
company — a poor, sad, deserted mother, in a faded dress, 
with a quiet baby in her arms. There was a stir, an 
opening of doors, a rush of music, a flashing of dia- 
nonds and gleaming of white garments, and then over 
the pealing of the bells, through the marriage march of 
the organ, rose a terrible cry of murdered hope, as a 
stricken woman fell insensible at the bridegroom’s feet, 
and the shrinking bride beheld a pale baby caught up 


BABY'S NURSE. 


75 


from the folds of her costly lace. Did he know her, 
after those many months, so changed from the bright- 
ness and bloom of happy and glowing girlhood ? Did 
remorse, then and there, strike a sharp fang into his 
conscience to sting with memory through all eternity ? 
Who knows? He made no sign. He led his wife 
around the prostrate form, placed her in her carriage 
with tender and assuring words, turned again and gave 
money to a bystander for the unfortunate being who 
had so unseasonably swooned, and then sank back upon 
the satin cushions beside his bride, and was whirled 
away to luxury and ease, honor and high place. And 
the wedding-bells filled the air with their glad pealings, 
the music of the organ rolled out from the magnificent 
church, and humble hands lifted mother and babe out 
of the way of the gay assembly which poured out from 
that ceremony which had proclaimed before the altar 
that God had joined together those two ! She also 
went her way from the church door, companied by 
misery and uncomforted even by her child. She 
wandered on, wandered on day and night, up and 
down, back and forth, watching no longer, searching no 
more, but as one stunned by a blow or walking in a 


76 


BABY'S NURSE. 


dream ; her money gone — for she would take none of 
his ; too wretched to work, cast out and roofless in her 
poverty ; with the streets and houses, men and women, 
trees and sky, all like shadows in a strange vision ; even 
the baby at her breast seemed unreal, like a phantom 
carried in sleep, till its plaintive moans pierced to the 
depths where maternity survived, though all else was 
slain, and roused her to the bitterness and sharp agony 
of reality. She begged for a pittance to preserve her 
child ; she grew frantic at the cries she could not still ; 
she clasped it close to her bosom to give it warmth ; 
she called out to the passers-by to look at her baby, to 
tell her what was the matter with it — oh ! what was the 
matter with it ? and what should she do % And some 
stopped and did look, and shook their heads, and went 
on, and some thought she was insane ; and 6he knelt 
down in the shades of evening on the cold stones, and 
prayed and prayed to the Great Power that seemed so 
far off, while His Angel Death stood so near by ; and 
then she gazed down at the little white face grown 
suddenly still, and went wholly mad. 

It was long past midnight, when a noisy group of 
such women as only haunt the streets at such hours, 


BABY'S NURSE. 


77 


came laughing and capering out of a heated dance 
revel, singing their loose songs, and chaffing each other 
in that fictitious gayety born of wine and excitement ; 
on they flung, a half-dozen reckless and ruined 
creatures, caring naught for man or heaven, with their 
mirth ringing hollow beneath the stars, and their pea- 
cock plumes mellowed by the moonlight ; on they came 
to where a single figure stood upon the pavement, 
holding a dead baby in her arms, and babbling of 
brooks and fields. They paused, at first wondering at 
the burst of childish talk that greeted them, and then 
closed round about her in a ring of sad and pitying 
faces. 

Perhaps it was the young visage, so wan and 
pathetic, that touched them ; perhaps it was the dead 
baby that awed them ; perhaps the dethroned mind 
that shocked them ; or perhaps from their own experi- 
ence they divined something of her unhappy story. 
Their levity died away, their quips and quirks were 
silenced, their bacchanal song was strangled by a sigh, 
their hearts and eyes filled up, and all that came out 
from them was pure, womanly in look, in voice, in deed. 
They took the small, cold form reverently out of the 


78 


BABY'S NUIISE. 


strainiug arms; with tender words and gentle caress 
they soothed the perturbed spirit, and lovingly and 
kindly as sisters led her to their own abiding place, ant* 
ministered to her in turn during a long and life-threat 
ening illness, with the care, the patience, the generosity 
of closest kinship ; and while she lay alike unconscious 
of good offices and personal grief, took her little infant 
and placed it solemnly, with church service of chant 
and scripture, in its grave within a suburban cemetery, 
shedding tears over the “earth to earth 55 that might 
have washed white many a sin and relieved more than 
one memory. 

While she was sick and weak they were all forbear- 
ance and goodness towards her, but with the faint 
bloom of returning strength their former indilference 
and carelessness came back, and they spake many 
a bitter truth, in their flippant way, of the world and 
men that subverted any dawning hope of help to be 
gathered therefrom ; and they shared with her freely 
and unsparingly, without counting the cost of their ill- 
gained gold. She had no other friends ; in the whole 
wide world she had not one to go to for succor, for 
counsel, for upholding ; none cared for her save only 


BABY'S NURSE. 


TO 


these in a sort of fellowship of good-will ; she was reck- 
less of herself, ruined as they were, with hell-fire in the 
past and an outlook of despair in the future. So she 
was fain to stay with them, to become one of them, to 
strive to drown in wild orgies the gnawing recollec- 
tions, to smother beneath the life of the senses the un- 
ceasing struggle of a tortured soul. For a whole year 
she drifted through the slough of shameful circum- 
stance, endeavoring in a mad whirl of excitement to 
harden her nature to her state, in the abandonment of 
license to find oblivion or distraction. But in vain — 
in vain ! The nights avenged the days ; her dead baby 
came to her in dreams, lay in her bosom as she 
slept, touched her with its tiny hands, filled her 
empty arms ; the ghost of her slaughtered love rose up 
stainless beside her darker deeds; even the dumb 
creatures she had known called to her from afar, and 
drew anear and looked at her with wistful eyes as if 
they grieved for her lost condition ; through the 
loudest revelry she heard her child’s moaning wail, 
and could not shut out with wine or wassail from her 
inward sight the last look of its dying eyes. There 
was no escaping from the witness within her; she 


80 


BABY'S NURSE. 


fought the incarnate spirit with every carnal weapon, 
but the still, small voice could not be silenced ; and at 
last there grew upon her such a horror of her course, 
such a loathing of herself, such a longing for emanci- 
pation from evil doings and disgraceful ties, that she 
sank into a brooding melancholy that, without speech, 
irritated and reproached her companions. And then 
these women, who had rescued her in madness, nursed 
her in illness, ministered to her in want, buried her 
baby — scoffed at her sadness, satirized her scruples, 
jeered and jested at the signs of lingering principle. 
Gratitude gave her endurance ; she could never, never 
forget that they had once been kind and tender and 
true. So one day she called them all together, told 
them in touching words that she must go out from 
them, must belong to them no more; parted among 
them all she had gained in that unhappy year of dress 
and trinkets, embraced them all over and over, and 
went forth in her old faded robe to seek for work and 
peace. But work was not to be found ; at the old 
places where they knew and pitied her once, they asked 
for her record now, and would have none of her ; and 
she discovered too that seme change in the times had 


BABY'S NURSE. 


81 


made the field scanty and the laborers many; so she 
passed through a hard probation of starvation and dis 
tress that assailed her with temptation, and tried her 
through and through, soul and body. She fancied that 
her own self-scorn was reflected in every one’s eyes and 
echoed in every voice, till she was almost filled with a 
dread of human beings, yet in her terrible loneliness 
craved something to solace her yearning solitude. And 
then she bethought her of the farm -creatures she had 
loved ; they were not human, and cared not if the 
caressing hand belonged to sinner or to saint, and per- 
haps they had not forgotten her ; for though it seemed 
so long ago to her, it had really been but a little while 
in the calendar of men since she had been with them. 
So she had gone all that long distance just to look 
again upon the fields where her childhood had been 
spent, and to seek a little grain of comfort from the 
animals she had fed and nurtured. It was such a little 
hope left out of all that life had once had for her ! and 
it cost her some last sacrifice and left her penniless. 
She had been to the familiar meadows, where she had 
made hay and picked clover in the past where the 
peace of God which passeth understanding rested in 


82 


BABY'S NURSE. 


the sunshine and stillness, and soothed her mind and 
nerves ; but the dogs had barked at her, the lambs fled 
away from her, the cows looked at her with uncon- 
scious eyes, and a strange farm-hand had driven her off 
as an intruding tramp. The dumb creatures had forgot- 
ten her ; she was so changed by her sin and her sorrow ; 
she knew all of them, but she had become only a stran- 
ger, even to the dun Alderney she had reared up from 
birth. 

And now she was going back to the great city to find 
her baby’s grave, and die there — death was the only 
merciful thing in this world for such as she ! Only, as 
she had passed on her footsore way through this sweet 
town, she had suddenly seen the Young Motherland 
her Baby sitting at the window ; all her heart leaped 
up at the sight — it was the first baby she had seen since 
her own was taken from her. Some invisible power 
seemed to draw her across the street ; she thought if 
she could only touch the little hands, press the little 
face, it would be like a blessing to her ! That to kiss 
once more a baby’s pure lips w^ould be like the baptism 
of Christ, though her sins were scarlet as blood ! And 
now, more than that had come to her — more than had 


BABY'S NURSE 


83 


ever come to her in her life before — a good woman had 
put her arms about her, and had not spurned her, be- 
cause she too had been a mother ! But oh ! let her go 
now — let her go — it was more than she could bear — let 
her go to her own baby ! 

The Young Mother had listened with tears running 

O CD 

down her cheeks ; in her heart of hearts she had felt 
that every word was truth, and never before in her 
love-sheltered existence had she realized the wickedness 
and wretchedness of a world outside her own. As she 
listened, she had thought — thought with reason contend- 
ing with that charity which over cometh all things — 
should she keep her, this waif from the under-world of 
vice, this woman torn with suffering, strife, and repent- 
ance ? Should she hold her fast as a precious soul to 
be saved from wrath to come ? or should she send her 
forth again from a haven of refuge and safety to fresh 
hardship, contumely, and suicide, and so have before 
her conscience an accusing figure forever and forever ? 
Could she bring her young sisters into the atmosphere 
of one so tainted ? Could she trust her child with one 
who had been dragged through the mud of the earth ! 


84 


BABY'S NURSE. 


Was sin contagious from the body? Ah! her little 
habe had lain in those stained arms, had smiled in that 
face, and had taken no harm. Was it infectious from 
the spirit? Surely this woman’s soul was purified b} 
penitence ! Only speech and action could convey evil ; 
could she not guard against that? Ought she not to 
give her a trial? Would it not be time enough to turn 
her away when her influence proved corrupt? Should 
she help her ? Should she save her ? Dared she, who 
was happy, and had her own Baby safe, thrust out 
another, who was most miserable, and whose baby was 
dead ? Whose baby was dead ! Her tears welled out — 
the charity that overcometh had won the day. She was 
no longer to her a sinner, an outcast, a Magdalen, but 
only a mother whose baby was dead. 

And when the other said more quietly, “ You know 
all now ; you can only think badly of me like all the 
rest ! ” she took the thin hands in hers, and answered, 
u I think you have been more sinned against than 
sinning, and that the dear Father in Heaven has 
brought you to me. Will you stay with me, and take 
care of my Baby? I have great need of some 
one who will put love into this work, and maybe 


BABY'S NORSE. 


85 


after a while my little one will comfort you foi your 
own.” 

Surprised by this unexpected offer, she, to whom 
kindness was so unusual, looked up as one astounded. 
“You will take me?” she said slowly ; “you will keep 
me ? You will give me your Baby ? ” 

“ I will give you more,” replied the Young Mother. 
“ I will give you Love and a Great Trust. And you 
can help or harm me much ; for if you are loyal and 
faithful to me and yourself, you will give me a larger 
and surer confidence in all humanity ; but if you do 
not deal righteously and truly with me, I shall never 
dare to listen to the voice of my own soul again ! You 
see it is an experiment for both.” 

The woman bowed down her head, and there was 
silence between them for a minute. Then she lifted 
her eyes with a new light in them : “ I could not have 
dreamed there was anything left for me in this world 
to do ! ” she answered. “ I will live, since you do not 
think me unworthy of such a trust, if only to try and 
prove to you that there is something true in me still 1 
I will stay with you. I will be faithful.” 

And as a sign and token of their compact, the Young 


86 


BABY'S NURSE. 


Mother lifted Baby from its crib, and laid her on the 
other’s breast. “ Oh, my baby ! my own baby 1 ” she 
b^oke out, “I must see my baby’s grave ! ” 

“ Not now, dear,” said the Young Mother. “ I can- 
not let you leave me yet. Some day we will go there 
together 1 ” 

The whole family, as they came in and out, passed 
judgment on the New Nurse. When the Young Father 
found her installed in his home, he privately remarked 
to his wife that she looked rather delicate for such a 
weight as Baby was getting to be; and the Young 
Mother put her arms about him, and replied : “ Dear- 
est love, she has had hard times; we will make her 
stronger among us; and just see how Baby takes to 
her ! ” and she never told him any more than that, she 
who kept nothing else hid from him all through her 
life. Grandfather Number Two said he “ was glad that 
Baby had got any kind of a nurse at last, so that he 
could hear something else talked about ! ” But Grand- 
father Number One studied the pale face more than 
once as he played with Baby ; and one day, when the 
Young Mother went with him out of the room, he put 


BABY'S NURSE. 


87 


his arms round her and bade “ God bless her for a good 
lass ! For there has been a sore life in there,” he said, 
ct and she is finding peace with my dear girl ! ” “ Oh, 

papa ! ” she whispered, “ how do you know ? ” u I know 
nothing of your Nurse,” he answered, “ but I can tell 
a good work when I see it ! ” “ Oh, papa, papa ! ” she 

murmured ; u it isn’t me ; it is all the Baby ! don’t you 
see that it is Baby who is healing and helping her ? ” 
and Grandfather Number One laid her face against his 
for a moment, and went quietly forth. The Grand- 
mothers were inclined to be decidedly critical at first, 
in consequence of ineffectual visits to the Intelligence 
Offices, and from disapproval of taking in a servant 
without a reference ; but they could not help but notice 
her patience and loving care of her charge, and when 
they beheld her sewing were completely won over, and 
went about proclaiming her a treasure. And the 
Young Aunties wondered that she shrank from them a 
little, and was so shy when they were so gay and gra- 
cious Avith her ; but Baby loved her — that was evident 
enough — and so they were determined to be good to 
her; and soon after the faded dress had been taken 
away by the Young Mother, and destroyed entirely 


88 


BABY'S NURSE. 


from being a reminder of the past, Baby’s Nurse was 
many times overcome with thoughtful little gifts of 
collars and cuffs, aprons and ribbons, and generous 
overflowings of young and gushing hearts. Vv'hile from 
the Poor Relation, whose instinctive sympathy divined 
that here was one who sorrowed greatly, there came 
sometimes such gentle words of strength, such uphold- 
ing of the sinking spirit, that the tried soul clung to her 
saving grace as though this other woman had indeed 
been a holy priest ordained of God. And the Fat 
Nurse, dropping in one day with her basket and um- 
brella, watched her keenly with her twinkling eyes, and 
said afterwards to the Young Mother, “ You’ve did 
well by your Baby, mum ; for she’s got the Mother- 
heart, and that’s the best recommendation any nurse 
can have ! ” 

One day, when the following Spring had made all 
the earth green, the Young Mother and the New Nurse 
went away to the great city, passing through its noise 
and bustle to another city on its quiet borders, whose 
people were very still in their last homes — the silent 
City of the Dead ; and among the lowly graves of the 
poor found a little mound grown over with waving 


BABY'S NURSE. 


89 


grass and golden buttercups ; and what befell there of 
remembrance and remorse, of weeping and consolation, 
gratitude and goodness, the two women locked up in 
their hearts, and never spoke of again ; but, before they 
came away, the lonely grave was covered over with 
myrtle, and set round with roses, and when next they 
saw it there was a small white stone at the head, on 
which was only cut, “ In memory of a Baby,” for this 
child had died without a name. 

And the New Nurse lived all her long years with 
them, and kept her promise, and was faithful to the 
end. She came to be like one of their own family, and 
was respected and trusted, loved and looked up to. It 
was she who took all their new-born childen in her 
arms, and tenderly laid out all their dead ; she dressed 
the young for their bridals, and closed the eyes of the 
old; she rejoiced in their joy, sorrowed with their 
sorrow, shared their burdens ; and the next generation 
never thought but that she had always been one of 
them. A weird sort of wisdom from much introspec- 
tion fell on her, and many an earnest word of hers took 
root for salvation in restless or wayward hearts ; fruit# 


90 


BABY'S NURSE. 


meet for repentance marked all her unassuming way ; 
her eyes shone with a beautiful peace; and she who 
had been cast down and desolate, made gladness for 
the angels in heaven. 

Many years afterwards, when Baby had grown to be 
a young lady, when the Young Father had become 
a rich and renowned citizen and the Young Mother 
a wise and well-beloved matron, much courted in the 
social life of the great city where she visited, she met 
the man who had wrought this ruin, prosperous and 
debonair, esteemed and honored, the cynosure of fash 
ion, head and front of his admiring circle still. It 
struck him with strange novelty and curious wonder 
that this one woman, so sought after and distinguished, 
should meet him always with cold eyes, or turn from 
him with averted glances. It made him uneasy, this 
Epicurean who shrank from a crumpled rose-leaf, and 
that any one human being should disdain or discounte- 
nance him was a skeleton at his life-long feast that 
must speedily be banished. So, watching one night at 
a great assembly till he had seen her a little apart, with 
the graceful effrontery of a practised man of the world, 


BABY'S NURSE. 


91 


he ventured to question her of the why and thus. She 
turned her sweet, fair face full upon him all kindling 
with long-kept indignation and contempt, and spoke 
out from her sincere heart the stinging answer: “For 
twenty years I have sheltered in my house the woman 
whose life you ruined, whose youth you destroyed ; and 
I therefore deem you unworthy even of her scorn! 
Seducer and profligate ! You are loathsome as a lie I 
and I forbid you ever to approach or speak to me 
again ! ” He winced and writhed under her righteous 
anger and plain-spoken words, that like a sharp knife 
had cut into his vanity and his memory ; he slipped 
away from her speechless and cowed ; and whether or 
not his conscience ever reproached him with remorse- 
ful remembrances, he never forgot the crumpled rose- 
leaf in his career — the expressed odium of one honest 
spirit. 

And never in all the days of her life did this true 
woman breathe to any one else, Father or Mother, 
husband, sister or child, that other woman’s secret of 
a Baby’s Grave. 


V. 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 

On her bed she lay day after day, year in an i year 
out, white and helpless, with large eyes melancholy with 
the sadness of long suffering. Only the unwearied 
hands rested not, and the active brain never ceased from 
thinking. What dreams of health and happiness, 
what disappointed hopes, what unspoken repinings, 
what agonies of despair, what rebellious reflections, 
what wrestlings with destiny, what strivings for pa- 
tience, had been worked off upon the exquisite embroid- 
ery that grew under her delicate fingers ! for always 
before her was a snowy, diaphanous muslin, with its fine 
tracery of leaves and flowers, vines and fruit, and into 
every branch and every blossom she wove her life, and 
by the perfectly wrought designs she won the cost of 
her living. One day it would be a lovely wedding- 
dress that was spread over her humble couch, and out 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


?? 


of her tender blessings on the bride, her sweet fancies 
of a bliss she could never know, there would be evolved 
a wonderful result of interwoven beauty, with a poetic 
meaning in it all that perhaps the wearer would never 
guess ; and only the worker, touching gently her undi 
vined creation, would know that each design was signi- 
ficant of a good wish — the lilies for purity, the roses for 
love, the wheat for plenty, the heart’s-ease for content. 
Or it would be an infant’s robe to be made rich and rare 
with unrivalled adornment, and little wxuild the pleased 
mother suspect the yearnings over the untried future 
and the visions of its coming life that were wrought 
through and through her child’s dainty garment ; how 
upon each thread-born wreath there hung prayers for 
the coining years, and how every festoon had felt the 
prophetic outlook of a solitary spirit to whom a new- 
born babe seemed like an angel fresh from God, to be 
once more, when earthly career was over, a bearer of 
palm-branches in the universal heaven. Or, once in a 
while, they would bring her a spotless shroud to fashion 
for the dead, and would find unexpectedly laid upon it 
some mystic emblem to grace the grave, an amaranth or 
a winged globe, to symbolize to hearts that looked 


94 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


thereon the sweet everlasting Beyond. For never unto 
others went forth the bitterness of tortured flesh or pris- 
oned existence ; the white roses that she raised were the 
flowers of silence ; the womanhood that was in her 
naturally taught her repression ; the unselfishness of her 
spirit held her back from saddening others ; and her 
Thought of God and want of outer experience gave her 
a trust and faith that could overcome at last her weari- 
ness, her isolation, her doubts. But there were times — 
oh ! there were times when the frail body went through 
the very V alley of the Shadow of Death ; when the 
pain, the impotence, the unquiet of a separated lot 
would stir the tried soul with inward storms of revolt 
and longing ; when the unuttered heart-cries were as 
piercing and tempestuous in unseen ears as those of a 
strong man in his agony. But Love was about her al- 
ways ; and, as unto those to whom little is given, spon- 
taneous gratitude is great for that little — the suffusing 
glow of thankfulness for returning ease, the throb of 
sincere joy at a new attention, the bursting of sunlight 
into her room, the sight of the calm, blue sky, the sound 
of a tender voice, would still the tumult, and through 
the shining point of her needle her discontent would 


THA CRIPPLED SISTER. 


95 


flow into lines of beauty, and peace would return with 
the needed pursuit, and by counting over her pleasures 
6he conquered her pain. For much and many minis 
tered to her. The Aged Father and Mother added to 
her wisdom, poured out for her the hoary experiences 
of accumulated years, caressed her with their withered 
hands, shone upon her with their wrinkled faces, where 
affection beamed brighter than their eyes ; and she, who 
was the Poor Relation in other homes, but the Light of 
the Household here, she never tired in her tendence ; 
she who, without a word, knew all that passed within 
the kindred mind, whose sweet sympathy soothed, whose 
genial cheerfulness uplifted, whose arms were around 
her in the night-watches of suffering, whose days never 
brought forgetfulness of a single loving care, and who 
was at once Sister, Friend, and Physician of soul and 
body. Then there were those abroad who came to her 
in kindness, often bringing gifts of thoughtfulness and 
overflowing compassion. The Grandfathers would 
come, thumping their gold-headed canes upon the floor 
and her nerves, with hearty salutations, and the very 
breath of fresh outer air on their portly persons and 
ruddy faces ; and the chirpy Grandmothers, with their 


96 


TEE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


gossipy talk of the younger generation, and something 
nice td~tempt the delicate taste, made from an old fam 
ily receipt that none possessed but themselves. And 
the Young Aunties, by twos and threes — bright and beau- 
tiful with youth, full of lightness and mirth, gleeful 
with girlhood’s quips and quirks, and always ready to 
relate all that was going on in their happy world — the 
last party, the latest fashion, the newest books, blushing 
confidences, tremulous hopes, sometimes the sentimental 
woes and imaginary ills ; sure always of a cordial lis- 
tener and faithful adviser, and rarely thinking that their 
gayety and grace might cause a pang to one to whom 
youth and beauty and the world beyond her chamber- 
walls were evermore denied. Then her bird sang for 
her such a delicious song that it awakened marvellous 
harmonies within, and was sometimes echoed by strains 
unheard of mortal ears ; for that one voice concentrated 
for her the chorussed music of the groves ; the liquid 
notes linked themselves to the harmony of the spheres, 
and an awe-inspiring refrain of cherubim and seraphim 
seemed to float to her from the far-off Everlasting! 
And when the little golden songster tucked his head 
under his wing at night, her fancy went out all over the 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


97 


eartli, and saw in all dimes birds of all kinds and plu- 
mage nestling into slumber, and her eyes tilled with 
yearning tears over these feathered innocents, which 
were thus her only link with God’s dumb creatures. 
And as she gazed out of her window at the small patch 
of sky she could see therefrom, the floating clouds wore 
varied shapes for her — shapes beautiful or fantastic, mak- 
ing always a changing panorama of which she never tired. 
Sometimes it was a dark dragon, with overlapping scales 
and forked tongue ; anon a soft, gray vision of clustered 
towers and spires; and again weird and witching faces 
would form and dissolve against the serene blue ; some- 
times a white angel with outspread wings would hover 
over her, and sometimes the sunset glories would make 
a gorgeous garden of heavenly blossoms before her eyes ; 
but oftenest a snowy dove would brood in the great im- 
mensity, and then she felt as if the Spirit filled her 
heart and mind, and lifted her in aspiration till she was 
no longer a crippled and pain-stricken body, but only a 
chosen soul taken behind the veil of flesh and sense to 
behold the secret mysteries of being. Thus in her quiet 
room, in the silence and solitude of a separated life, she 

was neither desolate, nor despairing, nor deprived of the 
7 


98 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


solace wliicli the good God gives to all who have hearts to 
feel. But, nevertheless, one thing troubled her much : 
others did so much for her ; some one, it seemed to her, 
was always bringing her help or pleasure; but there 
was so little she could do for any one ! Her Father in 
Heaven was loving and bountiful in His mercies to her, 
but there was nothing she could do for Him ! Praise 
Him, like her bird, she sometimes did from the very 
depths of her nature ; but she longed, almost infinitely 
at times, to reach out towards His children on the earth, 
and repay to them her debt to Him. In her own home 
the proceeds of her daily work assisted in maintaining 
the life that was there, and secured her from becoming 
a burden upon much-taxed and slender resources. But 
6till this was so little, so little, and she knew not how to 
do more, her world was so narrow and she came in con- 
tact with so few. Her heart was full as a fountain 
of its waters, but she had no direction in which to 
pour out the overflow; the sacred hour of oppor- 
tunity had not arrived — the right chord had not yet 
been struck. 

One day they sent the Baby to see her — the bright- 
eyed, rosy-mouthed Baby, with the little golden rings of 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


99 


hair fringing the dainty cap, and the tiny dimpled hand 
stretching out to her from beneath the embroidered cape 
of the long cloak. It was almost the only Baby she 
remembered ever to. have known, for the young Aun- 
ties were not born in her neighborhood, and it was so 
long since there had been a baby in the family. In- 
stantly a new tenderness and vague yearning sprang up 
in her soul ; perhaps the woman’s regret that never, 
never would the blessing of Motherhood be hers, min- 
gled with the other expressions on her pale face ; 
perhaps too there was something more which told that 
only alone could the lonely spirit grapple with and 
overcome these unusual emotions, for Baby’s Nurse, 
wise from her own experiences, quietly took off Baby’s 
wraps, laid the soft w'liite-robed creature in her arms, 
and went swiftly from the room. She remained away 
but a little while, not long enough to tire too much the 
fragile arms ; but in that time the Crippled Sister had 
shed drops and drops of shining tears over the placid 
Baby, who looked up at her with strangely wise eyes, not 
frightened at her unfamiliar face, but as if also ponder- 
ing the secret things of the heart, for babies sometimes 
seem so freshly come from Paradise, that either mem- 


100 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


ories or meditation over unseen marvels appear to hold 
them in temporary stillness and contemplation, and 
to give a sense of speechless knowledge past our under- 
tanding who have come so far away from the wonder- 
trorld which is the source of life and light. 

“ O Baby, Baby ! ” she said, in her very heart of hearts, 
“ you are a miracle ! for you are a soul — one of God’s 
souls born into this world — this world where souls strug- 
gle and suffer ! How 1 wish — oh, how I wish that I, 
even I, crippled and useless, could stand between you 
and all the pain of the future ! Sweet, tender blossom, 
dear innocent birdie, why cannot you always be a 
Baby? why must you grow up to be crowned with 
thorns, to be crucified, as every soul must be, before you 
go back to that other life ! Blessings may come to you — 
blessings will come to you, for you are the Baby of love 
and hope; but oh, you new-made darling! you have 
come into a hard world, for you have been born a 
woman ! ” 

For it suddenly seemed to the Crippled Sister as if 
she had never before so keenly felt or fancied the strife, 
the poverty, the crime of this earth, as when she looked 
upon this untried, sinless being, and there dawned upon 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


101 


her a sudden terrible dream of the might be of any 
human existence ; all the agony and rebellion of her 
own years rolled up, and momentarily smote down her 
long patience, but out of it arose a longing almost di- 
yin e, to shelter, to shield, not this one only, but all 
young and untainted lives from the wrath and evil to 
come. With that singular outlook born of solitude and 
imagination, she beheld countless homes where babies 
bloomed — babies, all to be men and women some day — 
and she shuddered as she thought what men and women 
were in the world, and how even the sweetest and 
purest knew sorrow and needed strength. And she — 
she who would fain have suffered, in her great hour of 
yearning over a baby and her race, that the many might 
be made white from their sins again — what could she 
do ? What could she do ? It seemed to her as if she 
was the smallest, most useless, most impotent creation 
in the Universe, lying there growing almost weary 
under the weight of a single mortal Baby. But the 
child was God’s angel and brought Ills message ! She 
always said afterwards, if it had not been for the Baby 
she never would have gained the idea, for as Baby lay 
quite still looking solemnly up at her, thoughts and 


102 


THE CRIEELED SISTER. 


plans flashed in upon her like electric sparks struck 
from the innocent presence. 

In a few minutes it had all come into her mind, clear 
and vivid as a reading of God’s word ; the Baby’s little 
hand had touched the waiting chord ; through the 
Baby’s pure eyes she had seen her opportunity; the 
Baby had given her at last a work to do for her Father 
in Heaven and her race on earth. And as if this Baby 
had divined that its mission was ended, and as if it had 
just dawned upon its infantile sense that the glowing 
face bending over its own was that of neither Mother 
nor Nurse, it set up a very human cry, and the latter 
came in, put on the long white cloak, held up the pout- 
ing mouth to be kissed by pale, quivering lips, and 
carried her charge away, pondering in her own heart 
what manner of emotions the Child had awakened in 
the Crippled Sister’s spirit. 

A few days afterwards the Light of the Household 
went forth into the poor places of the neighborhood, 
and brought in, one by one, shrinking children, with 
shabby garments and shy glances; little girls un- 
gathered into schools, untaught of ignorant parents who 
were slaves of labor, to whom was preached no Gospel 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER . 


103 


of salvation from idleness, weakness, or vice. These, 
allured in unwillingly at first, hard enough for a time 
to keep together, came at last iuto this quiet chamber 
as to a holy shrine, sat earnestly at the feet of a pale, 
patient teacher, and learned the ways of truth and 
right, took from her untiring zeal a shield of work or 
wisdom to defend them in days to come from depend- 
ence, debasement, and ruin. Day by day — for a few 
minutes only sometimes, sometimes for hours, accord- 
ing to her fluctuating strength — she had them with her, 
pouring out the garnered stores of unforgotten reading 
in simple language, and opening up new worlds for 
unformed minds; peopling for them with her sweet 
fancy the woods, the streams, the air, with as beauti- 
ful spiritings as the old fantastic shapes of pagan lore ; 
showing them what she saw in the sky ; telling them 
what her bird sang to her, breathing into their recep- 
ti ve souls the peace and good-will that angels hymn to 
mankind, clothing common facts in such attractive 
forms that knowledge grew to be better than choice 
gold, and making labor so sacred and honorable in their 
eyes, that to do seemed well as to be wise. It was slow 
work, slow and anxious and earnest, taking more 


104 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


patience than the bearing of pain, calling upon the 
deepest founts of love for all the charity that suffereth 
long and hopetli all things ; for ignorance, habit, and 
inherited traits are formidable fortresses to assail, and 
can only be overcome by continuance in well-doing. 
Clumsy fingers and unopened minds were equally diffi- 
cult to guide and to train; but when the heart was 
once won the will grew strong, and out of her untiring 
effort came evidence of fine fruition at last. 

In the poor homes where they belonged the mothers 
listened with a sort of awe to the accounts of this pale 
lady, lying always on her couch, covered with the white, 
fleecy folds of her delicate work, and giving out to 
little rapt listeners thoughts that would abide with them 
all their lives ; and the first result of this feeling was 
clean faces and smooth pinafores. Then the children’s 
talk brought new ideas to the laboring fathers that 
brightened the weary toil, and something gentler 
seemed to steal into the hard and bare existences, and 
so the sweet influences radiated farther than she could 
feel, and her work was wider than she knew. 

After a while Christmas was drawing near, and one 
day there was an interesting assemblage of these small 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


105 


scholars in a room where one of them lived, whose 
mother was a washerwoman, and upon tubs and 
buckets they were seated in a circle, with their childish 
countenances expressive of anxious meditation. The 
weather was cold, and the de\ices to secure warmth, 
mostly consisting of capes and shawls belonging to 
grown-up people and much too large for their present 
wearers, gave them generally the appearance of ani- 
mated bundles with a face at one end, and the tips of 
very worn shoes — sometimes of bare toes, peeping out 
of the other ; and the subject of their meeting and con- 
sultation was, IIow to Get a Christmas Present for the 
Crippled Sister, and What It Should Be. 

No thought of expediency or custom entered these 
youthful and inexperienced minds ; it was a matter of 
pure love and gratitude, or as one of them put it, 
“ She’s bin mighty good and lovin’ to us, and we want to 
do suthin’ to make her feel we know it ! ” The leader 
of the meeting was a grave little damsel with quiet eyes, 
who seemed to take a natural precedence. “Now, 
Anner Mariar,” she said to a buzzing wee thing beside 
her, “ there ain’t no use in guessin’ and talkin’ so 
ranch ; let’s count up ; each girl say how much she can 


106 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER . 


give ; we’ve got to know that first of all. Yon begin 
.A nner Mariar; how much are you goin’ to have by 
Christmas ? ” 

“ Well,” chirped out this small being from the folds 
*)f a large red muffler, “ I’m a goiu’ to settle down and 
take a place to mind Mrs. M’Goffin’s baby next door ; 
it’s an awful big baby, and drefful cross, but I guess I 
kin do it, and get my share for the teacher ! I’m to 
have twenty-five cents a week, but I have to give Mam 
most of it, cos’ I can’t work out, and go to the Lady’s, 
and help her too ! but I kin save five cents a week off 
anyhow ! It ain’t much, but it’s better’n nothin’, and 
Lord knows I’ll earn it with that baby ! ” 

“ There now, Anner Mariar, that’ll do ; let somebody 
else say something, will you ? ” interposed the youthful 
President. “ Jane O’Connor, what do you think you’ll 
have ? ” 

The O’Connor’s child wound herself very tight in a 
big plaid shawl. “ I’m goin’ to do chores in the mornm’ 
for a boardin’-house, carry np the coals and sich, and 
they’re to pay me ten cents a day. I spec’ the old man 
will take a good deal of it for gin, but I mean tc screw 
a quarter of it out anyhow, if I have to fight for it! ” 


TEE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


107 


“ So far so good,” observed the approving Chief. 
“ Nettie Blane, it’s your turn ! ” Nettie looked down 
abashed by the superior facilities of her companions, 
and spoke in a rather low and tremulous tone. “ I 
ain’t likely to have a chance to earn any money ; but 
Uncle Jim — he’s a sailor, you know — he brought me two 
lovely shells home from his last voyage; they’re all 
smooth and pink inside, such a beautiful color, and 
have got scolloped edges just like lace, and I thought 
maybe I could sell them ! ” Hereupon ensued an ani- 
mated discussion as to the probability of the market 
value of these treasures, and much advice as to places 
where there would be most likelihood of disposing of 
them. Little Nettie’s cheeks flushed as pink as the 
shells themselves with excitement over the subject, and 
her youthful soul experienced the first pain and joy of 
sacrifice. 

Then the question of resources was put to each of 
the others in turn, and each made some hopeful reply. 
One had an uncle who always gave her something for 
Christmas, and she thought she could coax him to pre- 
sent it a few days beforehand ; and one had a tin bank 
into which she had dropped all the few pennies she had 


103 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


received for two or three years, and she was willing to 
contribute all of them ; and so on through the whole 
group, till a rough estimate was made by the grave little 
1 ‘resident, after much struggling with the arithmetical 
pr ;blem, and the financial committee rose up from the 
tubs and buckets in quite tumultuous delight at the 
amount of the uncollected sum. They circled round 
for some minutes in rather noisy glee, till the small 
Chief called them unceremoniously to order by stand- 
ing on a tub and exclaiming : 

“ Look here ! We have found out How To Do It, but 
we haven’t made up our minds yet What It Is To Be! ” 
There was an immediate subsidence at this suggestion, 
and the important deliberation was resumed. This was 
a very serious question indeed, as it was no longer a 
matter requiring individual responsibility, but a general 
decision and consent, and the tone of the discussion be- 
came much more argumentative. “ What It Should 
Be ” was one of those puzzles requiring experience in 
intuition to decide, and wild and extravagant were 
some of the first propositions by the more thoughtless 
and those uninitiated into the cost of things. “ I tell 
you what,” said Anna Maria, “ there’s nothin’ like a 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


109 


big cake ! there was one stayed in the baker’s window 
ever so long till last Christmas, and it was all over shin- 
in’ white icin’, and it had a yaller and a red and a 
blue rose right on top; and oh, my! it was just splendid 
1 used to stand and stand and stand and look at it till 
my toes were ?-most froze, just a-tkinkin’ what an aw- 
ful lot of nice eatin’ there was in it ! Now, / say let It 
be a cake, for it’s so good and so Christmassy ! ” 

“ Aimer Marier,” remarked the small President, 
u you’re just crazy ! Have you any idear what that cake 
cost? Besides, the Lady gets enough to eat, and she 
isn’t the sort as is always thinking of her stomach.” 

Anna Maria was quenched for a moment, but re- 
tained a sense of injury at being thus unceremoniously 
6iiubbed, which only waited for an opportunity to be 
vented. 

Directly the O’Connor’s child observed that she 
thought it \vould be nice to give the Lady a whole lot 
of fine thread for her work, because she used so much 
all the time. 

“ Thread ! ” contemptuously retorted Anna Maria, 
“ who ever heard tell cf thread for a Christmas 
present 1 ” 


110 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


“ It’s a heap more useful nor a cake ! ” replied the 
other. 

“ Pooh ! ” said Anna Maria, “ people never gets use 
ful things at Christmas, only something pretty to look 
at, and good things to eat.” 

u Well, anyhow, I guess she wouldn’t care about a 
cake ! ” 

“ I bet she would then l ” 

“ She wouldn’t ! ” 

“ She would ! ” 

“ Hold yer tongue ! ” “I won’t ! ” “ Then take that ! ’ 
and the O’Connor’s child gave Anna Maria a quick 
slap on the cheek. Anna Maria, not having been 
trained in the Scripture doctrine of turning the other 
cheek when she was smitten once, was about to return 
the blow, when the little Chief, with her face all aglow, 
stepped in between the excited parties. 

“ Ain’t you ashamed of yourselves, after all the bless- 
ed things the Lady’s bin teaching us ! Didn’t she read 
us out of the Good Book one day, ‘ Little children, love 
one another ! ’ and talk to us about it till we couldn’t 
most of us a-help crying % And you two ain’t no better 
nor you had never heard it at all 1 Do you think she’d 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER . 


Ill 


care about a cake, or anything at all, if slie knew you’d 
bin fighting over it ? Now, yon just kiss and make up, 
and don’t have no more such sass ! ” And Anna Maria 
and the O’Connor’s child were quite overcome, and fell 
upon each other’s necks and kissed, and then sat lovingly 
down together on the same tub. 

Then, after this, strange and v'arious articles were 
proposed, to which many objections were raised, princi- 
pally by the little President, who seemed to think her 
most important duty was to keep the intended expendi- 
ture within the limits of the probable amount, for 
which purpose she was obliged to do a good many sums 
out loud. The puzzle was growing deeper, and the 
likelihood of a decision seemed farther off than ever, 
when Nettie Plane said, in her soft voice : “ I know 
what the Lady loves more than anything else, and that’s 
flowers ! Why, just here awhile ago, before it got so 
cold, I found a bunch of wild posies growing alongside 
the road as I was going to her house ; they were just 
common things, but I picked them and took them to 
her, and you just ought to have seen her over them ! 
Her face lit all up, she was so pleased, and do you knew 
that for a minute she looked like she never was sick at 


112 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


all ; and she kind of petted them with her fingers, and 
thanked me so nice that I never was so glad of doing 
anything in my life! Now, don’t 3*011 all think she’d 
rather have flowers — real nice flowers, I mean, like }*ou 
see 3’oung gentlemen taking to their sweethearts ; not 
am r tliing we could find, but something we’d have to 
buy ? ” 

The unconscious poetry in this little girl’s soul had 
vaguely divined that material gifts were not delicate 
enough for this lonety spirit who communed with things 
unseen. Nettie’s earnestness enforced her idea, which 
seemed to impress the fancies of her companions, till 
one exclaimed : 

“ But flowers die so soon, and then she would never 
have nothin’ to keep to make her feel that we’d bin 
thinkin’ of her ! ” 

An anxious shade fell over Nettie Blane’s face, that 
however instantly brightened with a new thought. 

“ Oh, yes she would,” she said, “ because she’d 
always remember ! Don’t you know, somehow, if }*ou 
once get a thing, you’ve always got it, even if you don’t 
see it ! If I sell iny shells, it don’t much matter reall) T , 
because whene' er I think about them they’ll always be 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


113 


in my heart, and I’ll always know that Uncle Jim ho 
brought them to me over the sea ! ” 

The wise intuitions of the little philosopher struck 
the poetic chord in the small surrounding humans. 
Some one murmured, “ Things ought to be awful 
pretty to be remembered always!” and the general 
consent seemed to settle without dispute that a basket 
of flowers would be the very sweetest thing in the world 
to give. 

a And I know of a man who keeps a hot-liouse just 
out of town,” said the young President, “ and he looks 
good-humored and kind, so maybe he’ll give us some- 
thing real nice for what we’ll have to pay ! ” And 
soon after the meeting dispersed, each one going her 
way, with the sense of quite an important aim embel 
lishing the future. 

The day before Christmas, as the big, burly and rosy 
owner of the conservatory just out of town was sort- 
ing his choicest blooms for a large wedding which was 
to take place in the evening, with a deftness hardly tc. 
have been expected from the size of his fingers, the 

door of the hot-house suddenly opened, and a squadron 
8 


114 


TEE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


of a dozen or more small girls, headed by a g>*ave-eyed 
little damsel, entered in solemn procession. 

“Bless my soul! ,, said the Gentle Giant, turning 
his bluff, bright face towards them,” what do jou 
young ones want ? ” 

For an instant they had stood quite still, looking 
about them in wonder and delight ; for the whole place 
was so filled with rare and lovely blossoms that its 
atmosphere, color, and profusion was like a concentra- 
tion of the tropics. Anna Maria nudged the O’Con- 
nor’s child to look at yellow oranges ripening amid 
their own foliage, and murmured, “ Oh, my ! they’re 
really growin’ there, they are ! ” And Nettie Blane’s 
tender gaze lingered on the white camellias and clus- 
tered azaleas, as if for the first time in her life she had 
realized a fulfilled sense of perfect beauty. But the 
Young Leader, deeply impressed with the importance 
of her errand, had never taken her eyes off the hearty 
countenance of the Big Gardener, and was not to be 
diverted from its practical pursuit by any allurements 
of tint or odor, and in her quiet voice replied to his sur- 
prised salutation : 

“ If you please, sir, we want to buy a basket of flowers.” 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


115 


The man dropped the two or three buds he held in 
his hand, turned entirely around, and gave one steady 
look down the whole line; he saw at once that they 
were not likely to want flowers for themselves, and im- 
agined that one or two had been sent on a message, and 
that the rest had accompanied these. 

“ You — want — to — buy ” — he said slowly. 

“ Yes, sir, a basket of flowers, if you please. 

“ Who for ? and why are there so many of you ? ” 

“ Well, sir, I’ll tell you. You see, sir, there’s a 
dear, kind Lady, and she’s a cripple, and never gets oil 
a low kind of bed she lays on, and works all the time 
the most beautiful broidering flowers you ever seen. 
And she teaches us ; we go there to her room, and she 
tells us — oh ! she tells us such sweet things about every- 
thing, and she tries to make us good, and we’re learn- 
ing ever so much from her. So we thought we’d like 
to give her a Christmas present, and we’ve all saved up 
till we think we’ve got enough ; and because she never 
can go out to see anything a-growing, and just loves 
flowers like they were alive, we made up our minds to 
take her some ; because we all give something towards 
it we all came together about it ; and if you please, sir, 


116 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER 


we’d like as nice a basketful as you can make up foi 
our money.” 

The rosy face bloomed out bright as one of his own 

4> O 

blossoms ; the round eyes grew wonderfully soft and 
moist, as the big, burly man stooped and kissed the 
small speaker, and said, with just a touch of huskiness 
in his voice : 

“ Well, you’re a blessed little party ! You just go 
round, all of you, and pick out what you’d like to have 
and I’ll fix them up for you ! ” There was an immedi 
ate stir in the young procession, an evident delight in 
this permission, and an intention to put it instantly 
into practice, when the Small Leader called out, “ You 
keep still there, will you ? Iv’e got something else to 
say ! ” 

Curiosity restored order, and she again addressed the 
gardener. 

“ Ain’t those grand flowers very dear ? Y ou see, sir, 
we don’t want anything we can’t pay for all right ; 
because, you know, if you were to go and put in out of 
goodness something that ought to cost more than we’ve 
got the money for, it would be you a-giving, not us ! 
Besides, if it was too fine, the Lady would be worried 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


117 


with thinking where we'd got enough to do it with ! So 
if you will please to give us something as nice as you 
can for just what we can pay for it, we will be so much 
obliged. We’ve got this much money ; please to count 
it, sir, and see if it will do! ” And she handed him a 
rather battered tin match-box containing the accumu- 
lated contributions in small coins, as they had been 
gradually brought in as they were gained. 

And as the Gentle Giant took the minute box in hia 
big hands he had to cough to keep down an uncomfort- 
able choking in his throat, and which became even 
more troublesome when Nettie Blane stepped up to 
him, and said : “ If we can afford it, sir, could you put 
in a Lily ? because it seems as if she ought to have 
white flowers, and I know she loves lilies because she 
always sets so many of them in her work ; and I heard 
her say one day — like to herself — that Solomon in all 
his glory was not arrayed like one of these ! ” 

The Big Gardener by this time was too much touched 
to keep quite calm. “ Here,” he said to the Little 
Leader, “ you count out this money, and tell me how 
much it is, and I’ll do the best I can for it ! ” As the 
grave voice enumerated the amount, piece by pieco 4 


113 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER 


the rest looked and listened with an eager pride in the 
limited 6um which was pathetic to behold, as every 
penny of it had been earned by some sort of sacrifice. 
And when the Big Gardener took a basket and went 
round his hot-house collecting here and there his sim- 
plest blooms, all these keen eyes watched him in un- 
bre ken silence, and not one of them stirred a gaze from 
his fingers as he laid in the moss, propped a superb, 
stainless lily in the centre, and arranged round it with 
exquisite taste, violets and heart’s-ease, and delicate, pure 
blossoms ; in breathless quiet they noted every flower 
that was woven into its place, little thinking that these 
commoner plants which they were used to see in 
^summer were almost as costly as foreign growths in 
winter ; and it was not till the whole was finished that 
they broke out into exclamations of satisfaction. 

“ This must be a mighty good woman to make you 
love her so!” said the man as he handed over the 
basket to the careful hold of the Little Leader. 

“ Good !” answered Nettie Blane, u she’s a-most an 
angel ; it seems like she ought never to do anything 
but stand up close to the Throne with just such lilies 
in her hand 1 ” * 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER . 


119 


For Nettie’s inmost heart was stirred by the flowers 
and the occasion. 

The Big Gardener looked at her a second as if ho 
thought she might have been a stray cherub herself. 

“ That’s all your own gift,” he said, pointing to the 
lily-crowned basket ; “ but would you mind taking her 
a little present from me too ? ” 

There was a pause in general fear lest his superior 
resources might eclipse the glory of their own offering ; 
the Gentle Giant smiled and answered the unexpressed 
thought. 

“It shall only be one flower,” he said; and as a 
single flower in their inexperienced eyes could not 
possibly compare with a basketful, a happy assent 
was immediately given. 

lie went round among his plants to where bloomed 
one magnificent blossom, the only one of its kind in 
the greenhouse. For months and months he had nur- 
tured this particular growth with the utmost care, 
trailing it towards the production of- this % one flower 
with the solicitude of a father for a child, knowing that 
its rarity and splendor would bring an immense price ; 
but now, with a glowing face, he broke it unhesitatingly 


120 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


from the stalk, and without a sensation of regret, placed 
it in Nettie Blane’s hand. “Oh, thank' you !” said 
Nettie's glad voice, “ I will give it to her with your 
compliments.” And then the Big Gardener kissed 
every one of them as they passed out, and stood at his 
hot-house door, and watched the little procession as it 
wound out of sight with the Little Leader at the head, 
carrying the Basket of Flowers. 

The Crippled Sister was lying on her low couch, 
working a butterfly on a white shroud — for the dead 
know not Christmas, and wait for no one’s holiday; 
and as the emblem of immortality spread its wings 
beneath her glancing needle, she crooned over to her- 
self the song that the angels sang to the 'wondering 
shepherds so many centuries ago ; and as the “ Good 
will towards men ” dropped from her lips, her chamber 
door opened and the Light of The Household entered 
in, followed by the procession of children bearing 
their precious burden. The Light of The Household 
had tears in her eyes and a quiver about her mouth as 
she said, “ Dear Sister, the little ones have brought you 
a Christmas present!” for she had met them at the 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


121 


hall door, and divined all the sweet story from their 
few words of explanation. 

Then the Little Leader stepped forward with the 
basket of flowers, and as the Crippled Sister took it in 
her hands the shroud fell aside, but even in the living 
delight of the Present, the butterfly of Immortality 
rested on her bosom below the shining flower of the 
Annunciation; and as the children stood round the 
bed in their poor clothes, and some of their hands hard- 
ened by toil, it dawned upon her how they had worked 
and sacrificed to bring her this token of love, and her 
heart was almost too full for words, and tears of purest, 
saddest joy dropped like rain upon the violets and 
heart’s-ease that represented to her the tender gratitude 
of those innocent souls. “ It is so beautiful ! so beauti- 
ful?” she murmured, and they fairly thrilled to think 
she meant their happy gift ; but Nettie Blane alone 
felt that it was of their feelings she spoke, and as if to 
crown the season’s offering of good-will, she laid the 
single gorgeous blossom beside their own present, say- 
ing : 

“ The .Big Garderner sent you this too, ma’am, with 
his compliments, because he said you ‘ must be a mighty 


122 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


good woman to make us love you so much.’ ” Then 
the rich color flooded the Crippled Sister’s cheek and 
brow, and her eyes shone, and she seemed to grow 
transfigured before their very sight into angelic youth 
and beauty, and her voice was almost like a song as she 
cried out, “ O my darlings ! you have made me so rich 
to-day, for you have brought me not only these lovely, 
lovely flowers, but something I thought never could 
come into my lonely life — the free, blessed Love of 
Children ! ” And she kissed them all over and over 
and when they lingered as though loth to leave her, her 
spirit seemed inspired to speak to them from the text 
of the flowers ; through the Big Gardener’s rare blos- 
som she seemed to bring before them the wonders, the 
glories, the very atmosphere of the East ; they saw the 
palms of India and the gardens of Damascus, the roses 
of Persia, and t‘he Cedars of Lebanon ; and out of the 
simple blooms of their own sweet gift, she wove tender 
stories and lessons that would cling in their memories 
to heart’ s-ease and violets as long as they lived ; and she 
told them at last that the great old artists, when they 
painted their pictures of the Angel bringing Good News 
to Mary, the Mother of Christ, always placed just such 


THE CRIPPLED SISTER. 


123 


another white Lily in his hand ; and that it was sign 
and token of message and promise. And somehow, as 
she talked, these poor, little, narrow lives felt them- 
selves grow nearer to the angels; and when, after they 
had all joined together in singing for her the Christmas 
hymn, they went out to their humble homes with their 
hearts upraised in “ Glory to God on high,” because 
they felt, in their vague way, that in that one room at 
least there was “ peace on earth and good-will towards 
men.” 

And the Light of the Household leaned over the 
Crippled Sister w T ith a half sob in her tone as she said, 
“ This is a happy Christmas, Dear 1 ” “ Ah ! yes,” an- 

swered she. “ And it all came from the precious Baby ; 
for if it had not been for the Baby, I should never have 
thought of these other children ! Hneel down, sister, 
and say a Christmas prayer for the dear Children and 
the darling Baby 1 ” 


VI. 

baby’s party. 

Baby was going into short frocks ; and the Young 
Aunties had all assembled in Baby’s home in order to 
assist the Young Mother in cutting down the long robes 
which had hitherto covered Baby’s restless little feet. 
They were a gay and happy party as they sat around 
the pile of dainty white garments, one ripping, another 
cutting, and the rest sewing with nimble and willing 
fingers, while Baby lay in the midst, and greatly inter- 
rupted the work and merry chat ; for first one Young 
Auntie would stop to coo back to the chirping crows, 
and then a general flow of baby talk would suspend the 
flashing thimbles; then another Young Auntie, having 
to do a little necessary measuring of Baby’s tiny person, 
must needs dandle the small creature a while to each 
of the other Aunties, until the fun grew fast and furi- 
ous, and Baby wild with infantile delight; and then 


BABY'S PARTY. 


125 


another Aunty wa3 moved to kiss the rosy mouth bo- 
cause “ the little darling was too sweet to live.” and all 
the other Young Aunties felt called upon to follow suit, 
until at last the Young Mother called the party to 
order, using her gold thimble as a gavel, and crying out 
in a loud voice that she had something important to 
say. Curiosity conquered the spirit of frolic, and the 
small fetish was left in peace by its feminine worship- 
pers until all the say was said ; the neglected cambric 
was resumed and the bright needles began to fly again 
in this charming sewing-circle. 

“ I have been thinking,” spoke the Young Mother, 
when some stillness was restored, “ that I should like to 
celebrate in some way or other Baby’s change into short 
clothes ; suppose we have a Baby party ! ” 

Then the sluices of talk opened up; exclamations 
of “Capital!” “Glorious!” “What a nice idea!” 
echoed from the Young Aunties, and then began to 
flow a stream of plans and suggestions. 

“ IIow many babies do we know?” “Shall all the 
rest come in short dresses like our Baby ?” “ Won’t it 

be lovely to see such a lot of new baby shoes ? ” “ All 
the Nurses will have to come, so it will be a Nurses’ 


126 


BABY'S PARTY. 


party too ! ” “ What will the Babies get tc eat ? ’ 

“ Pap and arrow- root ? ” “ Wouldn’t it be rich to ladle 

boiled milk out of the big Punch bowl ? ” “ What en- 
tertainment for the Nurses \ ” “ Oh, pale ale and 

brown stout ! ” “ Or else unlimited tea and toast ! ” 

“ Guess there’ll have to be a supply of Mrs. Winslow’s 
soothing syrup ! ” u Wonder if they’ll all bring their 
rattles ? ” “ Our Baby must have a coral to assist the 

concert ! ” “ IIo ! Baby ! you’re going to have a Ball ! 
a grand Baby Ball ! And all the fairy godmothers are 
coming, and all the Baby Princesses, with rings on their 
fingers and bells on their toes ? ” 

Down came the authoritative gold thimble again to 
quiet the confusion of tongues. 

“ That is not the kind of party at all that I want to 
have,” said the Young Mother. “Now, girls, do be 
still awhile till I tell you what my thought has been 
about it. We all know what a blessing our precious 
Baby is ; how we all love her, and what a pleasure she 
is to us all — is she not ? ” 

“ Yes, indeed,” rang out the Aunties, “ she’s just a 
dimpled angel and worth her weight in gold ! ” 

“ Then,” continued the Young Mother, speaking very 


BABY'S PARTY. 


127 


softly and tenderly, 4C it seems to me so selfish to keep 
all the happiness of her to ourselves, when we might 
make her the source of sweetness and enjoyment to 
others. Now, you know, girls, that rich people’s chil- 
dren get and have everything — our Baby couldn’t do 
much for them ; it isn’t to the happy infants who have 
corals and rattles, arrow-root and pap in plenty, that I 
want to give my Baby’s party, but for the poor little 
creatures that never have heard a rattle or saw a bowl 
of good boiled milk in their short lives. Oh, ever since 
my Baby was born there has come up to me so often 
the cry of the children — the children who are not shel- 
tered and cared for as mine is ; and I have wept over 
the mothers who must weep over their little ones, be- 
cause they have so little to give them in a world that 
must be so hard to them ! Can we do nothing for 
these ? Can we not give these babies a party, and 
make it an occasion of kindness and rejoicing ? ” 

The Young Aunties were silent now, and most ol 
the bright eyes were moist with the dew of feeling ; 
their impressionable hearts and fancies had gone out to 
those other babies so different in all their surroundings 
from their own family pet. But one of the gay young 


BABY'S PARTY. 


128 


girls — partly because she did not like the unusual sen- 
sation of gravity which had settled upon her sunny 
spirits, and partly from a naturally practical as well as 
fastidious turn of mind — suddenly exclaimed : 

“But poor people’s babies always smell so badly, 
and are so dreadfully dirty ! they are so sour and slob- 
bery, and generally wear yellow flannel petticoats ! ” 

“ Ah, dear ! ” answered the Young Mother, “ how can 
they be nice and sweet as our Baby, when the parents 
have to toil so hard, so early and so late, that there is 
hardly time to make the merest necessaries of life % 
Besides, you must remember that there are some 
mothers so poor that they cannot afford even to buy 
soap ! ” 

“ Oh, Sister, soap is so cheap ! ” cried the practical 
Young Auntie. 

“ Yes — to us. But to them bread is so dear, and 
bread is the necessity and soap the luxury.” 

The practical Young Auntie was practical no longer; 
to be too poor to procure soap was a depth of distress 
to which her imagination had never descended. She 
ftad an immediate vision of a rich soap-boiler whose 
advances she had always scorned, but who loomed up 


BABY'S PARTY. 


129 


now in her mind as a possible universal benefactor ; 
and in a momentary fancy she was herself standing at 
the door of his factory, dispensing bars of soap to a 
dirty crowd, as nuns deal out food to the beggars at the 
gate of a convent, and somehow the Soap-boiler did 
rot seem so low down in the social scale of humanity 
as before; he became instead a kind of apostle to re- 
deem the Great Unwashed. 

Her passing reverie was interrupted by the Young 
Mother’s voice, as she continued : “ Don’t you think we 
could contrive at our party to provide these poor babies 
with some of the necessaries that their mothers have so 
much trouble to obtain for them, and that, perhaps, 
will leave them a little of their hard-earned money for 
other things ? ” 

“ Soap, for instance,” said the Young Auntie, who 
had scarcely got away from the Soap-boiler and his 
factory door. 

The generous hearts of the Young Aunties were 
stirred and the consultation was long and deep ; and 
the girls went out of Baby’s home with a thoughtful 
pucker in each smooth forehead, occasioned by pro- 
found consideration of each one’s share in the new 
9 


130 


BABTS PARTY. 


enterprise, and with much eager talk of the ways and 
means, and all they meant to do. 

And lo ! as the practical Young Auntie wended her 
way homeward, by a strange coincidence whom should 
Bhe meet, face to face, but the Soap-boiler himself ! and 
with a vague intention of securing future soap for 
scented babies, she absolutely allowed herself to return 
his respectful bow with a pleasant nod, whereupon the 
audacious Soap-boiler, who had hitherto secretly admired 
her afar off, took the liberty of joining her fair high- 
ness upon the open street. Once this man who thus 
dared would have been met with haughtiness and 
silence, and would soon have been made to feel that he 
was no tit escort for an aristocratic Young Auntie, 
albeit he had all the seeming of a presentable and cour- 
teous gentleman; but somehow, in the last hour soap 
had taken on a new dignity, and its manufacturer did 
not seem so near to the scum of the earth as before. 
So, involuntarily she was almost gracious, and was sur- 
prised to find that the despised individual was well edu 
cated, had refined tastes, and even some beautiful enthu- 
siasms ; an'd in her astonishment and humility at having 
so under-estimated a human soul because of a worldly 


BABY'S PARTY. 


131 


business, she actually invited the Soap-boiler to Baby’s 
party. Afterwards she felt half ashamed of it, and 
laughed ironically to herself as she pictured him enter- 
ing in the midst of assembled babies, dragging in a 
great box full of brown soap. And at last it tormented 
her so that she had asked him, that she began to dream 
about him, and her nights were haunted by saponaceous 
visions until she almost began to envy those to whom 
soap was a luxury. 

Soon the deft fingers of the Young Aunties began to 
fly in preparation ; bundles of bright zephyrs adorned 
their tables; balls of worsted were forever being 
pounced upon by sportive kittens; odds and ends of 
yarn strewed each familiar place; every admirer was 
called upon to hold entangling skeins ; and all their 
lighter talk was interspersed with grave counting of 
stitches, till it might have been thought that each one 
was weaving a Penelope’s web, which was never to be 
finished. And they pursued the Grandfathers for. coin 
to purchase Shetland wool, and tormented them per- 
petually for contributions to knitting-needles, till the 
Grandfathers — who, however, paid out on every demand, 
and were always rewarded by a kiss from rosy lips— 


132 


BABY'S PARTI. 


grumbled after tlie fashion of men when their pockets are 
touched, growled greatly over the u nonsense of it all,” 
and declared that “ babies were a nuisance anyhow ! ” 
and that “ our Baby was too much spoiled ! ” at all of 
which the Young Aunties chaffed and coaxed, and came 
off triumphant. But the hearty Grandmothers entered 
into the spirit of the thing with real good-will, and gave 
excellent service in the cause. And the Poor Relation 
sent her small donation, neat and pure and simple as 
herself, and the Crippled Sister wrought night and day 
as she could, at her share of the sweet work. 

And so came on the day of Baby’s party, a day when 
the sun was shining and warm hearts were glowing ; 
when Baby’s home was made bright with flowers, and 
in the midst thereof stood a great basket, heaped up to 
overflowing with all kinds of warm and useful and 
pretty baby garments. Baby herself was dressed in her 
first short frock, much to her own intense delight, as 
the could thus uninterruptedly play with her disclosed 
feet, for the first time covered with the wee-est pair of 
colored slippers, which her round eyes contemplated 
with curious observation, and her chubby fingers began 
immediately to try and pull off. Never yet had she 


BABY'S PARTY. 


133 


beheld anything so fascinating ; and to kick the small 
phenomena back and forth, and crow with self-appro- 
bation, seemed to have become her crowning satisfac 
tion. 

The first to arrive were the Grandfathers and Grand- 
mothers, the latter each carrying a bundle of last con- 
tributions, and the former, half-laughing and half-grum- 
bling, protesting that the whole thing was an absurdity ; 
that there were enough paupers in the world, without 
encouraging poor folks to bring any more into exist- 
ence ; that women, anyhow, always had more sentimen- 
tality than common sense ; that because there was one 
Baby in the family, there was no reason to go mad over 
a whole lot of other babies ! But the wary Young 
Mother held her little one up for them to kiss, and that 
stopped their further speech, for they immediately began 
to amuse and entice the infant with the gold heads of 
their canes, and straightway became as foolish over 
Baby as any woman belonging to them. 

Then came in the Young Aunties, one or two at 
a time, in the prettiest of simple toilettes, and with the 
sweetest of youthful, happy faces all aglow with the ex- 
citement of benevolence, and all eagerness and excla* 


134 


BABY'S PARTY. 


mations over Baby’s loveliness in its new attire ; and 
with one Young Auntie entered the undaunted Soap- 
boiler, who had waylaid her on the road under the 
pretence that he felt rather shy at going alone to a 
party where he knew so few — much to her dismay, as 
she had over &nd over again repented the momentary 
enthusiasm of humanity which caused her to give the 
invitation, and had hoped that he had forgotten it ; 
but somehow, as she crossed the threshold with him, 
blushing with an unsubdued caste pride or shame, she 
could not help but watch very narrowly the reception 
accorded him, and her light heart was greatly relieved 
to see that lie was warmly greeted by the Grandfathers, 
who, being sensible men of the world, thought a good 
deal more of a man’s character than his business ; that 
he was cordially welcomed by the Young Father and 
Mother, whose sense of hospitality did not permit them 
to exhibit any surprise, or any other feeling than pleas- 
ure, at his presence ; and above all, that the other 
Young Aunties sufficiently concealed their amazement 
and scorn under the mask of distant courtesy; but 
because she did perceive, notwithstanding, that in 
their innermost hearts they were looking down on her 


BABY'S PARTY. 


135 


escort, her own rose up in involuntary championship, 
and made her so gracious and respectful to him that he 
enthroned her Queen of his Life forever. 

Then the pure presence of the Poor Relation entered 
like a blessing in their midst, and there was a softness 
and tenderness in every one’s manner as she moved 
from one to another in salutation, which showed that 
angels are not always entertained unaware. 

And at last, hearty and cheery, with her big black 
coal-scuttle bonnet tied under her double chin, and in 
one hand the inevitable cotton umbrella — stout in the 
stick and faded in the stuff — while the other grasped 
the bulging basket whose lid was tightly secured with 
green ribbons, in rolled the Fat Nurse, who, still pant- 
ing and blowing, having been settled on a wide seat 
with Baby trotting away on one knee, proceeded dexter- 
ously to open with a single hand that mysterious bas- 
ket without which she was never known to appear, and 
about whose contents there had always been more or 
less curiosity ; and behold, when the lid was uplifted, 
there was the capacious interior filled to the brim with 
carefully packed sucking-bottles, while the mellow 
voice poured out an explanation: “ You see, when this 


136 


BABY'S PARTY. 


ere precious Baby sent me an invite to come to tlie party 
— cos, perhaps, I might help some of the poor mothers 
with my experience — thinks I to myself, now l’(l 
like to do something for them poor little mites as don’t 
get much nussin’, nor any too much vittles or comfort ; 
but I have them belongin’ to me as I have to take care 
of, and so have mighty little money to indulge my feel- 
ings with, and I lay awake two or three nights off and 
on a-cogitatin’ and ruminatin’ how I should make it out, 
and at last I just set out mornin’ after morn in’ with 
that basket of mine, and went to every house where I 
had nussed, and asked the ladies to give me all the bot- 
les they had done with for poor women as couldn’t buy 
’em ; but I didn’t get enough, as babies keep cornin’ on 
in most families, and bottles, like the long clothes, are 
apt to descend to the next ; so I went around every 
place where I could find a lot of bottles that could be 
made to do, and fixed ’em up with tops as don’t cost 
much, you know, and there they are, and welcome ! ” 
The Young Aunties told her that she was “a real, 
dear, good old soul ! ” and the Grandmothers patted her 
on the shoulder and praised her good sense, while to 
the glistening sight of the Poor Relation these plain 


BABY'S PARTY. 


137 


bottles sparkled like diamonds; but the Young Mother, 
thanking her warmly, brought the moisture to the 
small, twinkling eyes half buried in the fat cheeks, by 
stooping over and tenderly kissing the coarse, good- 
humored mouth, for though the Fat Nurse was 
homely, common, and ungrammatical, though she wore 
a frilled cap and a bombazine coal-scuttle, and carried 
a faded cotton umbrella, and though her “ profession ” 
was not the most exalted walk in life, still this Young 
Mother saw under all this the kind and generous h£art, 
and only felt that “ by their fruits ye shall know 
them ! ” And lo ! at last, when they were thus gathered 
together, and waiting for the babies, the primmest of 
footmen, in the trimmest of livery, delivered with care- 
ful precision a very large package and a very short 
note, and all the assembled group were quite struck 
dumb to think that it had never entered any of their 
minds to ask Aunt Hannah; for the unexpected mis- 
sive simply said ; “ As you have forgotten to invite me 
to the Baby’s party, I send, by bearer, my contribution 
to the same, hoping it may be found useful and accept- 
able.” The Young Aunties immediately thought of 
that grimfa'ry of the story-books who is always left out 


138 


BABY'S PARTY. 


at the christening, and comes in at the last moment, 
furious at the slight, to counteract all the good gifts of 
the other fairy godmothers. But though their Aunt 
Hannah seemed a very grim fairy indeed to the Young 
Aunties, there was nothing malicious in her gift ; for, 
when the package was opened, there lay a score of 
violet and dove-colored merino Babies’ cloaks, warm 
and wadded, suitable and plain ; and as they all stood 
in a group looking at these there came a fresh tender- 
ness into the face of one of the Grandfathers. 

“We let Hannah too much alone,” he softly said at 
length. “ Poor thing ! she never forgets ; ” and then 
noticing the curious looks on the Young Aunties’ coun- 
tenances, he added : “ Ah ! girls, Aunt Hannah is 
homely and old now, but she was once as young and 
pretty and happy as any of you. My sister had a great 
sorrow long ago, and these little things tell me that she 
has never forgotten. We must all go and see her 
nore. Her life must be lonely enough in her big, 
empty house. Go and see her, girls — go and see your 
Aunt Hannah ! ” And as he turned away there were 
tears standing in the eyes that had just looked into the 
past. 


BABY'S PARTY. 


139 


And liardly had the cloaks been laid out of sight 
when mothers and babies commenced to arrive. It 
was a pathetic sight to see them all collected together. 
All were scrupulously clean, in spite of the Young 
Auntie’s foreboding, and some of the infantile faces 
fairly shone as if they had been well rubbed into un- 
usual whiteness ; and though there were indeed a few 
yellow flannel petticoats, these obnoxious garments had 
at least no shadow of dirt on them, while the poor 
dresses of the mothers were mended and washed and 
made as decent as possible, for it was a very rare holi- 
day, and all seemed to have striven to be in everything 
becoming. The babies themselves were many of them 
scrawny and pale and miserable to behold, but not par- 
ticularly noisy, for the silent patience of endurance 
enters early into the spirits of the very poor, and their 
occasional cries of want and pain were more of feeble 
whines than the healthy roar of indulged infancy. It 
stirred the hearts of the women to notice how lean and 
bony some of the tiny arms were, and how pinched and 
old a few of the little faces ; but still some were round 
and rosy and lusty — evidences of Nature’s success in 
spite of circumstances, and with sound lungs, which, how 


140 


BABY'S PARTY. 


ever, they were much too interested in the novel scene 
to use. 

There was thin and tired-looking Mary Maloney, 
who took in washing, and whose equally lean baby had 
never known any other cradle than a broken wash-tub, 
and who, when no kindly neighbor took care of her 
child during her absence, carried her washes home on 
one arm, and her baby on the other. And there was a 
consumptive seamstress, whose weird and unnaturally 
quiet infant looked like a little shrivelled up old mon- 
key, with preternaturally keen and cunning eyes ; and 
big, bouncing Kitty Flanagan, with a heart as ample as 
her broad bosom, on which reposed too sickly twins, 
the legacy of a dead daughter, and which tremendous 
charge the generous soul had accepted with a resigna- 
tion which was almost cheerfulness, though she had to 
work almost day and night to keep the life in them, 
and some besides who were dependent upon her. And 
there were many others gathered in from the byways 
and hedges of life, and to whom need and sorrow were 
all too familiar, and pleasure a luxury they had scarce- 
ly ever known ; so that in all these hard lives, so worn, 
so weary with toil and care, so unlovely and unb right 


BAB Y'S PARTY. 


141 


ened, this sweet occasion of Baby’s party became the 
Day of Days. After the bustle of reception was over, 
and all were comfortably seated around the parlor, the 
Young Mother moved a small table in the midst, on 
which was laid the large new Family Bible, which had 
been one of her wedding presents, and on the blank 
leaves of which between the Testaments the only records 
were her own marriage and that of Baby’s birth. She 
read, half shyly and with tender grace, the beautiful 
story of the Star of Bethlehem ; and when she paused, 
some of these poor mothers, who perhaps had never 
even heard a line of the Good Book before, felt as if a 
new sacredness had fallen on their own babies, since a 
little child had once been worshipped by the Wise Men 
of the East. Then she turned the cherished pages a 
little farther on, and again read only three verses, the 
three most beautiful verses that ever touched the uni- 
versal heart of humanity; and it seemed to all those 
untutored natures, who through all the burden of ma- 
ternity had felt the throb of love, that this blessed voice 
which, eighteen hundred years before, had rebuked the 
disciples, still spoke to each one of them, and bade 
them “ Suffer little children to come -into me, and for 


142 


BABY'S PARTY. 


bid them not,” and because “ of such is the kingdom 
of heaven,” there fell the holiness of possible angel 
hood upon each unseemly waif, and for a space there 
was a reverend silence as if the hands of Christ were 
in reality being laid upon the little ones, and even the 
babies themselves kept wonderfully quiet. Then one 
of the Young Aunties rose up and went to the piano, 
and sang this sweet benediction of children : 

“ To Thee, O God ! whose face 
Their angels still behold, 

We bring these children, that Thy grace 
May keep, Thine arms enfold. 

14 And as the blessing falls 
Upon each youthful brow, 

Thy holy spirit grant, 0 Lord 1 
To keep them pure as now.” 

And the hearts of the mothers were so full that tears 
fell down on the wan faces of the babies ; and then 
all the Young Aunties gathered together around the 
instrument, and chanted, in their clear, fresh tones, 
“ The Mother’s Hymn,” that our honored Bryant wrote 
out of his poet’s wisdom and insight ; and the un- 
familiar light and glow upon their mothers’ counte 


BABY'S PARTY. 


143 


nances, made them so strange to their babies, that they 
raised np their voices also and wept aloud. Then the 
doors were thrown open, and in was borne, not only 
one punch-bowl of boiled milk, but another, borrowed 
from the Grandmothers, brimming over with arrow- 
root pap ; and there was great frolic and fun among 
the busy Young Aunties filling up the Fat Nurse’s 
acceptable bottles, and soon a gentle gurgling sound 
proclaimed that the whole assembly were ecstatically 
at peace ; while the Fat Nurse sat in the midst, beam- 
ing all over with delight at the appropriateness and 
usefulness of her present, and dealing out advice here 
and there, after the decided fashion of one having 
authority. 

“ You needn’t tell me, Mrs. Maloney, that if that 
child of yours had such feedin’ every day it would 
ever get plump and healthy ! It ain’t vittles it wants 
so much as air! Yes, air! Don’t I know well enough 
how you folks shut yourselves up in your room, and 
patch up every crack and cranny to keep out a 
draught ? Ain’t you afraid as death of a shiver, and 
keep every window down for fear of a bit of chilliness? 
You think close air is warm air. Now, if you’d put 


144 


BABY'S PARTY. 


any sort c f a cover over your baby, and then fling up 
your saslies, and let in the blessed breezes till the smell 
and the mustiness were all cleared out, and there was 
a chance to breathe something that you couldn’t cut. 
with a knife, your child would gain a little flesh and 
color, and you too for that matter ! You’re just killing 
your baby with foul air ; that’s all that ails it ; and it's 
a good deal better to be a trifle cold than to be dyin’ 
by inches ! Well, I know, my dear soul, that coal is 
dear, and every one can’t afford a fire ; but a little of 
the Lord’s good, fresh air to sweeten your home won’t 
freeze you to death ! ” And then she unhesitatingly 
accused another conscious mother of giving her baby 
paregoric to make it sleep at night, or while she was 
at work, as it was easy to be seen that the small crea 
ture was one of the restless, nervous sort who are 
always teething and always crying. No denial or 
excuse could deceive that practiced eye ; but instead of 
a severe and indignant protest, she imparted a piece 
of information : “Don’t you know what a sugar-tag is ? 
Y T oi just take a cracker and pound it up— crackers 
don’t cost as much as paregoric, and one will do two or 
three times — and sweeten it a little, and tie it up tight 


BABY'S rARTY. 


145 


in a bit of rag ; stick it into your baby’s mouth, and it 
will suck away at it, and keep still for hours ; try that, 
and throw your paregoric bottle away anyhow; for 
cryin’ is natural, but stupor ain’t.” 

And while she delivered her oracular injunctions, 
the Young Aunties were amused to notice that the 
Soap-boiler, sitting quietly near by, listened to her quite 
attentively, as though he thought the Fat Nurse was a 
character ; who knew what she was about, and was well 
worth hearing ; and she, nothing daunted by her unusual 
audience, gave these ignorant mothers, in a few mo- 
ments, more instruction on the proper physical rearing 
of their children, than perhaps they had ever learned 
in all their lives before. 

Soon after, when the Babies were all inwardly re- 
freshed, and many of them asleep, all the cushions and 
pillows in the house were brought into requisition, and 
all the sofas and arm-chairs were filled, and the Fat 
Nurse, Baby’s own nurse, the two Grandmothers, and 
the Poor Relation were left to mind them all, while the 
mothers were ushered into the dining-room, where a plen- 
tiful repast had been prepared. The Young Mother had 

brought out all her prettiest china and finest glass, and 
10 


146 


BABY'S PARTY. 


her table was set and garnished as though her guests were 
the best of her friends ; and the Grandfathers sat at 
either end and carved for the hungry eaters till their 
faces glowed with the exercise ; and the Young Father 
and Mother, the Young Aunties and the Soap-boiler 
waited on them, and the latter acquitted himself so grace- 
fully, was so thoughtful and considerate, and so gentle 
and courteous to each poor woman as though she had 
been the highest lady in the land, that one Young Auntie 
in particular, watching him critically, began to think him 
the noblest and truest gentleman she ever saw, and re- 
membered the old story of Gareth, who served in the 
palace kitchen for a year and a day before he proved 
himself one of the gallantest knights of King Arthur’s 
Found Table. 

After they had returned to the parlor, and each 
mother was gathering up her own offspring, the Young 
Mother noticed the Grandfathers standing together and 
looking on. Directly they said a few words to each 
other, and then suddenly disappeared; and amid the 
greater freedom of chatter which had begun, she heard 
their gold-headed canes striking the hali-floor, and the 
front door closing behind them. For half an instant 


BABY'S PARTY. 


147 


she was mort.fied, but then reflected that there must be 
something more than weariness and disgust behind their 
departure, and she felt confident that in a little while 
they would be back again, as they had not spoken to her 
before going out. 

Then the Young Aunties struck up a gay song with 
a well-known chorus, in which most joined, and then 
another and another, and when the laughter and noise 
became a little more than decorous, the great basket 
was borne in all heaped up with gifts. Everything 
that mothers could desire for their babies was there. 
Warm things, soft things, woollen things, fleecy things, 
knit things, and woven things, and even a rattle apiece 
for every baby present ; and the Young Mother and 
Young Aunties had great joy in the delivery, first plac- 
ing each article in Baby’s tiny hands, to be given by her 
to each other baby, so that everything should be consid- 
ered as Baby’s own gift to the little ones. 

The pleasure and gratitude of the mothers was 
pathetic to observe. Some were loud in their thanks, 
but some could hardly speak at all ; and one of these, 
dumb with too much feeling, sank upon her knees and 
kissed the Young Mother’s bountiful hands. But tks 


148 


BABY'S PARTY. 


climax was reached when Aunt Hannah’s cloaks were 
brought forward and dealt out. Hardly, in their wild- 
est dreams had these poor women hoped to ever have 
anything for their infants so dainty and comfortable; 
and when they were told that these had been sent 
to them by a lonely old lady who had no children of 
her own, the mother-souls vented themselves in all man- 
ner of quaint and tender blessings and good wishes for 
her whose generous heart had thus, amid her solitude, 
remembered the children of the poor. 

Then every baby was invested with its new garments, 
submitting to the operation with unusual serenity, as if 
they too were charmed with their acceptable posses- 
sions; and in truth, the appearance of many was so im- 
proved by these pretty and bright additions to their 
scant attire, that the mothers were quite elated with 
pride, and grew eloquent in their praise of each fresh 
article. 

And when the bustle of admiration had a little sub 
6ided, Kitty Flanagan, with the twins pressed to her 
ample bosom, decked in their new array and each envel- 
oped in one of Aunt Hannah’s cloaks, arose, and begged 
to be allowed to make a few remarks; and when a sur- 


BABY'S PARTY. 


140 


prised silence was thus secured, she said right out of 
her full heart : 

“ Shure, and it’s not meself that often shpakes out 
before my betthers ; but it would be too mane to thim 
that has thrated us so splindidly if there was niver a 
one to say a word for the rist ; and troth, I am just 
shure that I expriss the sintiment of ivery mother pris- 
ent when I wish that all the saints may guard the swate 
Baby as gave this party ; and may the blissing of the 
Lord God Almighty and the love of the Virgin Mary 
be upon this house and all thim that’s in it ! ” and she 
extended the twins, one on each arm, and waved them 
as if in benediction, and sat down with a very red face, 
while all the mothers cried “ Amen ! ” 

There was a little awkward pause of emotion ; the 
mouth of the Young Mother quivered; the Young 
Aunties’ eyes were very moist, and those of the Poor 
Relation shone as with a light; the Grandmothers 
coughed, and the Soap-boiler turned suddenly and 
looked out of the window, while the Young Father 
shook as much of Kitty Flanagan’s hand as could be 
released from her hold of the twins. 

And lo ! when the time came for departure, there on 


150 


BABY'S PARTY. 


either side of the parlor door stood a bareheaded 
Grandfather, each with a roll of crisp bank-notes in his 
hand ; and as every woman passed out one of these was 
put in her hand with a u God bless you ! ” or “ Good luck 
to you ! ” by these sly old Grandfathers alternately — who 
had slipped away to the bank together, at the time the 
Young Mother was so sorry to see them leave the house, 
in order to secure this pile of bright, clean bills, and be 
back again to bestow them thus at the moment of de- 
parture ; and when the last mother and baby had dis- 
appeared through the door, the Young Mother and all 
the Young Aunties fell upon them, and kissed them 
over and over for being such “ precious, good old dar- 
lings!” 

And everybody said that Baby’s party had been a 
grand success, and there was that sweet glow of happi- 
ness in the heart of each that came to them inasmuch 
as they had done it to the least of these, His little ones ; 
and the Poor Relation remembered that when Simon 
Peter answered to Jesus, “Yea, Lord, thou knowest 
that 1 love thee,” He said unto him, “ Feed my 
Lambs.” 

After this the audacious Soap-boiler became more 


BABY'S PARTY. 


151 


and more attentive to one particular Young Auntie, 
who slowly and reluctantly, but involuntarily yielded 
to his advances, much to the astonishment and amuse- 
ment of the other Young Aunties, who watched the 
afiair with much satirical interest, and chaffed her un- 
mercifully, after the fashion of thoughtless girls who 
did not care to see anything serious behind the mirth 
of a good joke. One day she would find a cake of 
fancy soap upon her toilette table, with the compli- 
ments of the Soap-boiler directed in the unmistakable 
handwriting of a mischievous Young Auntie ; another 
time she would find her own soap spirited away from 
its dish, and the address of the factory left in its place ; 
and sometimes small bouquets ingeniously cut out of 
variegated soap would be surreptitiously arranged 
around her room ; and the very name of soap began to 
be such a torture to this perplexed Young Auntie that 
she blushed at its very mention ; until oue day the Fat 
Nurse came in to say that there had just been left at 
her house, for distribution among the poor mothers who 
were at Baby’s party, a dozen barrels of crackers and 
as many more of sugar, “to help keep the babies 
quiet,” and an accompanying envelope full of orders 


152 


BABY'S rARTY. 


for coal, so that “ the same babies might be kept warm 
enough to get some pure air ; ” and in the midst of the 
wondering who the generous donor could be, this 
Young Auntie recollecting how attentively the Soap- 
boiler had listened to the Fat Nurse’s instructions to 
the motheis on the day of Baby’s party, felt, with a 
great rush of tenderness, that it could have been only 
he who had done this good thing, and her heart went 
out to him to be his forever and forever. So that, when 
she came into her room a day or two after, and saw a 
caricature prominently placed over her mantel-piece 
representing her admirer with a leather apron tied 
around his waist, and a big stick in his hand stirring a 
steaming kettle of soft-soap, and was aware of the 
peeping faces of the assembled Young Aunties watch- 
ing through the crack of the door the effect of their 
latest attempt at ridicule, she indignantly tore down 
the picture, rent it into shreds and stamped on them, 
and then flinging wide the door, cried out in her anger 
and anguish, “ That it was a mean shame to vilify a 
noble gentleman ; that they knew as well as she did, 
that though he owned the factory he did no such work 
there; that he had inherited his business from hia 


BABY'S PARTY. 


153 


father, and whatever they might think of it, had made 
it by his honorable dealing the peer of any other ; that 
he was a good man and true, and that — that — they 
might say what they pleased about it, but she loved 
him — oh, she loved him ! ” 

There was no more chaff after that. The Young 
Aunties were all conscience-smitten immediately ; they 
rushed into the room ; they put their arms around 
her, and caressed her arid cried over her ; said they 
were only in fun, and begged her to forgive them ; and 
praised the Soap-boiler with an affectionate hypocrisy 
that brought her soul content ; though they were very 
much surprised to find that the Grandfathers were 
mightily pleased with the match, on account of the 
good name and great uprightness of the suitor’s 
character. 

And on the day of the wedding, in fidelity to the 
apostleship of cleanliness and appreciation of soap, a 
lar^re box of the same was left at the home of -each 
poor mother, who, at first, perhaps did not connect this 
unexpected and remarkable gift with the gay Young 
Auntie who had helped to make them all so happj on 
that memorable day of Baby’s Party. 


vn. 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 

The Poor Relation’s Aged Father and Mother sat 
togetl’.cr in the vine- wreathed porch, in the glowing sun- 
set of a mellow Autumn day. The sky was all glorious 
with purple and gold ; roseate clouds, fringed with their 
silver linings, floated like islands of the blest upon an 
amber sea; while piled up against the wide horizon 
were the transparent pinnacles and lustrous domes of 
an ethereal temple with gates of pearl guarded by 
white-winged angels; and just overhead spread the ten- 
der, melting blue, with its unutterable calm that soothes 
the soaring spirit with the peace of God which passeth 
understanding. And the leaves on the vines seemed to 
have caught the changing colors of the heavens, and had 
turned crimson and yellow, and on every light breeze 
some of them were shaken down upon the earth. With 
the Aged Father and Mother, too, the Sunset of Life 


THE S V ft SET OF LIFE. 


155 


was coming on apace, and, like the fading leaves, they 
also were passing away. And as the old man sat with 
his hands clasped on the top of his staff, and looked out 
with his dim eyes towards the iridescent West, its glow 
seemed to wrap them about with lingering warmth, and 
to make the needles shine as they clicked through the 
Aged Mother’s knitting. They had been silent for 
a while, each thinking the thoughts that come to the 
very old — of a past full of memories, of a future so 
short in this world, so tinged with mingled feelings as it 
extended into the next. 

“ Wife,” at length said the old man, “ we, too, ara 
going down — going down like the sun ; we have borne 
the burden and heat of the day, and the shades of even- 
ing are gathering fast ; we have had a hard life together ; 
will you be sorry when the night comes on, and there is 
no more any work or device in the grave ? ” 

“Not sorry, Father,” she answered, with the sweet 
quavers of age in her mild voice, “ for the grave is such 
a precious rest for these worn-out bodies ; there will be 
no more aches or weariness there, and it is pleasant to 
think that for the part of us which is not body there is 
the Beyond, where one likes to believe there are no 


156 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE \ 


more tears. And, Father, if our lives have been hard 
in some respects, it has been very happy in others ; 
surely it has been a great blessing that we have been 
spared to each other, that we have had all our good and 
ill together ; and then, above all, there were the chil- 
dren ! ” 

“ The children ! ” replied the old man, a little bitterly, 
“ were there ever children born into this world that were 
not a disappointment in some way or other to their 
parents ? ” 

“ Oh, not all, not all ! ” answered the Aged Mother. 
“ Think of our Mary and her Crippled Sister ! ” 

“Ay, ay,” said the Aged Father, “they are good 
enough — true and tender ; but then the lives they have 
had ! AT sorrow, and pain, and labor ! It has been an 
ever-piercing thorn in my side that our girls could not 
have been sheltered in from every hardship and every 
grief — that they should not have had happy homes 
and little ones of their own, like that Baby who was 
here to-day ! And it might have been — it all might 
have been, if it had not been for the wickedness of that 
boy!” 

“ 01), Father, Father ! don’t say hard things of him, 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


157 


for it was not wilful wickedness, only the folly and 
wildness of youth; and I am sure, if he had lived, 
he would have atoned long ago. Remember only that 
he was our first child — our eldest son ! ” 

“ I remember it only too well ! ” sternly replied the 
old man. “ I remember my joy when he was born ; 
what high hopes I built on him ; how I worked for him, 
and watched his growth with such pride and gladness ! 
I tell you, wife, that the love with which a father loves 
his eldest son passes the love of a woman, for he sees in 
him a fresher, newer self, and the embodiment of his 
race, and there is a sort of sadness and yearning in it, 
too, from his owu knowledge of life ; and I loved this 
son so, and tried to make him strong and wise. And 
after all, he dragged my name in the dust, and ruined 
us all over therein the Great City. I have never been 
the same man since.” 

“ But oh, Father ! ” and the clicking needles were si- 
lent, and fell into her lap, as she laid her withered hand 
on her husband’s urm, and there was a sob amid the 
pleading tones ; “ think how heart-struck lie must have 
been when he took his own life rather than face your 
wrath ; think what an agony of suffering and shame our 


158 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


boy must have gone through when lie could thus plunge 
into death to escape it ! Oh, don’t say it was cowardly, 
Father, for he was not himself when he did it! He 
was insane with remorse, for our John had been such a 
brave boy ! ” and the two wrinkled hands were wrung 
together, and a tear flashed down upon the bright nee- 
dles. The old man put his arm around the trembling 
form, and gently answered : “ You are right, Mother 
dear ; and it is not well for me to go back to that sad 
time, or to set a single act of temptation and wrong- 
doing against all the other years of affection and obedi- 
ence. And after all, we had great comfort in our 
grave, steady Jamie ! ” 

“ But oh ! ” said the Aged Mother, all stirred up with 
these reminiscences, “ it was hard, too, that he should 
have died in a foreign land, away from us all, and with 
only strangers to close his eyes ! ” 

And a new shadow fell over the old man’s face ; the 
Aged Mother saw it, and her quivering arms went 
round his neck, and she pressed her* white and wrinkled 
cheek against his wan face. 

“Dear,” she murmured, “it may seem a strange 
thing, but I very rarely think of our boys as dead or 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


159 


lost to us ; mostly I look forward, and see tliem, radi- 
ant and beautiful, in that other world where I am going 
to meet them. Ah ! Father, you will never be hard upon 
our Johnnie there, for all things will be made known 
to you then ! and Jamie will be just your other self.” 

“ Well, wife,” answered the old man softly, “ I be- 
lieve it may be so, for, after all, John really loved us, 
and by the love that was in him he may have been made 
meet for heaven, and by love he shall be forgiven ! ” 

The purple and gold of the setting sun flashed out 
more gloriously than ever ; the white pinnacles and 
shining domes of the ethereal Temple grew more and 
more luminous, and the tender blue above seemed to 
drop down its inexpressible calm like the very dew 
of heaven; the yellow autumn leaves floated awhile 
on the soft breeze before they rested on the damp 
mould, and a silence more eloquent than words fell 
upon the Aged Father and Mother, as with clasped 
hands they still looked out towards the glowing West. 

Then the aged woman said softly out of her reverie 
of remembrance : “Dear Father! you always think of 
the children as grown up ; but they always come back 
to me, when I am alone, as little children still. Often 


160 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


and often I sit by the nursery fire in our old home, and 
they come in with their pattering feet, and group them- 
selves about me in the twilight: Johnnie, with his curly 
head upon my knee ; Jamie, always grave and steady, 
on his cricket in a corner of the hearth; our dear 
Mary, with the flames lighting up her golden hair and 
angel face ; our poor, afflicted one, bright and restless 
then, dancing round me on her tiny feet ; and the baby 
— oh, Father ! the baby that never grew up, lying close 
upon my happy breast ! See ! I have only to close my 
eyes, and they are all there. I forget Johnnie’s sin, 
and Jamie’s far-away grave ; I forget our Mary’s toil- 
ing, lonely life, and the pains of her Crippled Sister ; I 
forget the tears I shed for my baby ; for I only behold 
the faces of their childhood — the innocent, sweet faces, 
untouched by the world and unspoiled by time ! They 
come in and out to me all day long; I hear their young 
voices ; I feel their clinging arms ! They have been 
men and women, sinners and sufferers, but they are my 
little children always still ! ” 

“ Ah ! would we could have kept them so,” replied 
the old man, ^kept them innocent and unstained, and 
untried forever ! for what do the years bring ua all ? 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


161 


And if all things had turned out well, in the course of 
nature and time our children would probably have 
turned to other interests, and wrung our hearts anyhow 
by separation ! As it is, what has life brought them, 
and what has it brought us? Death, and sorrow, and 
an old age of poverty and regrets I ” 

The Aged Mother clasped his hand firmly. “ No, 
dear ! no regrets for me. I have had my children ; there 
is no regret for me in that — even about John ; and in 
our deepest poverty I could always go back in my heart 
to our old home, and feel all the love-richness of my 
early motherhood. There is no poverty for a mother 
whose children have loved her ! We cannot judge how 
life has dealt even with our own. How do we know 
but that Johnnie’s sin may have been his salvation from 
worse, and that the Angel of Death may not have led 
him into some condition fitter for his nature ? and if 
J amie died, Jamie had lived well ; there never can be 
any regrets about Jamie ! and surely the lives of our 
Mary and her Crippled Sister are a daily lesson and 
blessing! And I have my baby in heaven — my baby 
that never lias grown up through all these years ! 

Father, we must have no regrets at God’s dealings with 
11 


162 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


us. A higher wisdom than ours ordereth all things 
right ! ” And the Aged Father bowed his head, and 
reverently said “ Amen ! ” 

The light in the sunset sky was something wonderful 
to see ; the very splendor of the innermost heavens 
seemed to glow through its magnificence of color ; the 
waves of the amber sea spread farther and farther, and 
the silver-fringed islands deepened in their roseate 
hue ; the wings of the angels guarding the gates of 
pearl were too luminous for eyes to rest on ; and the 
shining pinnacles and domes seemed to be wreathed 
with ascending flames ; the measureless depths of the 
blue above were still calm with their unspeakable 
peace ; and the dying leaves ceased for a little while to 
fall, but floated, floated softly still, as silence once more 
fell upon the Aged Father and Mother. 

After a quiet space, the old man, with his dim eyes 
still looking outward towards the iridescent hues, said 
a little faintly, as the breeze lifted his snowy hair: 
“ Wife, the days are very long ; the sun is slow in 
going down ; 1 am weary, and 1 would the end were 
come 1 ” 

And she answered gravely, “ It cannot be far off, 


TEE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


163 


for our work is done and tlie darkness is drawing 
near.” 

Tlie purple and gold lost a little of their brightness ; 
the waves of the amber sea waxed paler and withdrew 
from the far-off verges ; the roseate islands paled to 
a delicate pink ; over the lustrous domes and pinnacles 
of the ethereal temple a scarcely perceptible white mist 
seemed to arise ; at the gates of pearl the angel wings 
lost something of their dazzling sheen, and in the 
lovely blue overhead a grayish shadow mingled with its 
brooding peace ; more and more of the crimson and 
yellow leaves slipped away from the thinning vines, 
were whirled about faster in the cooler air, and 
dropped swiftly upon the waiting mould. 

The old man turned his dim eyes from the fading 
West to gaze upon the wrinkled face of his life-long 
companion. “ Dear,” he said, “ the night is dark and 
the grave is cold ; but there is one thing that has never 
been dark to me, night or day — the light of your, loving 
eyes; and one thing that has never been cold, even 
through the dreariest winter — the warmth of your 
wifely heart. God bless you, love of my youth and 
consoler of my age I ” 


164 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


And the worn old hand shook that caught hold of 
hers ; the touch of it chilled her very life-blood, and 
a strange shadow passed over his aged face. 

“ Father, father ! ” she gasped out, as she leaned over 
vutl pallid lips to kiss his, already cold and white, “do 
not leave me alone ! take me with you to the chil- 
dren ! ” 

“Come!” he just whispered with the last fleeting 
breath ; “ we will go together to our children ! ” and 
the shadow that was on his face passed over to hers. 

The faint gleam of the purple and gold died out ; the 
fading flush of rosy isles paled and paled till even 
the silver lining lost its brightness; the glow of the 
amber sea was drawn inward from the gathering 
shades of evening that swept over it to the changing 
gates of pearl, where the angels’ wings were soaring 
away in snowy, transparent clouds ; while behind the 
dimming veil of mist the ethereal domes and pinnacles 
were dissolving like the baseless fabric of a vision ; and 
over the peace of the heavenly blue the blackness of 
silent night was spreading fast. The crimson and 
yellow leaves had lost their color in the failing light, 
and lay an undistinguishable heap upon the dew-damp 


THE SUNSET OF LIFE. 


165 


mould, while the last rays of the dying day lingered 
upon the staff which had fallen at the old man’s feet, 
and upon the bright needles which would click in the 
busy fingers no more forever. And over the vine- 
wreathed porch the gray shadows of night crept about 
the Aged Father and Mother, who sat very still together 
with clasped hands when the Sunset of Life was ever. 


"Vjjli. 


AUNT HANNAH. 


Aunt Hannah lived in a grim, gray mansion on the 
outskirts of the town, and to the gay Young Aunties, 
bright with their untried life and joyous with early 
hope, Aunt Hannah was a very grim and gray person- 
age herself ; for she resided alone in this large, empty 
house, full of the solid, heavy furniture of other days, 
keeping the casements always darkened, so that the 
rooms seemed haunted by gloomy shadows, and moving 
about therein with a grave, slow presence, as of one 
who carried a solemn weight. Nothing was ever awry 
in that silent house ; the high-backed chairs stood 
straight against the wall in their accustomed places 
from year to year, and the big, old-fashioned bedsteads, 
with their canopies and draperies, were more like 
funeral catafalques than couches for the living. The 
primmest of footmen opened the ha 11- door to rare visit- 


A UNT HANNAH. 


167 


ors with a subdued and sepulchral air, suggestive of an 
undertaker ; and the fattest, laziest, nattiest of coach- 
men in antiquated coat and capes, drove the fat, lazy, 
shining old horses at a snail’s pace when Aunt Hannah 
went in her roomy coach to make her annual duty call 
on her brother’s family. Then the unwilling Young 
Aunties made expressive wry faces to each other on the 
stairs as they went down to endure her visit, and sat 
stiffly round the parlor, hammering their brains for stu- 
pid commonplaces with which to entertain her — with 
all their merry quips and quirks banished from their 
lips, and all their airy gossip laid aside as something 
too uncongenial for the chilling atmosphere of so severe 
a guest. Even the kindly Grandmother grew less cor- 
dial and more studiously polite with this reserved and 
solitary woman ; and if the hearty Grandfather kissed 
his sister with warm welcoming, a tinge of sympathetic 
sadness seemed always to fall over him as he talked 
with her ; and she, going not at all into the world, had 
but few subjects of conversation for them all, and it 
was with a great show of deference and stifled sighs of 
relief that their occasional intercourse terminated. 
And so Aunt Hannah dwelt apart in her grim and 


168 


A UNT HANNAH. 


echoing house, a lonely woman little known. She 
manifested so little interest in the outer world, that it 
was only on family occasions that she was recalled or 
regarded as one of themselves. Possibly, if she had 
been poor and in want, the loving kindness of these 
kindred hearts would have drawn her among them, an& 
shared more of their own life with her. But Aunt Han- 
nah was extremely rich ; and while the worldly Grand- 
mother sometimes thought of this with a spasmodic 
access of interest and attention, other mem here of the 
household seemed to make it an additional cause for 
distance. The Young Aunties had a vague understand- 
ing that some great sorrow had once made Aunt Han- 
nah’s days dark and dreary ; but they had so many light 
matters of their own to engage their hearts and time, 
that they troubled their minds and memories very little 
with one they scarcely sought. 

But the Young Mother’s spirit was stirred within her 
by the present of little cloaks which Aunt Hannah had 
sent to Baby’s Party ; and an unusual interest had been 
excited when Grandfather No. One had spoken with so 
much emotion of the forgotten fairy who had not been 
bidden to the festivity. She pondered these things in 


AUNT HANNAH. 


169 


her heart of hearts, and her thoughts lingered about th© 
grim, gray house and its grim, gray tenant. Surely, it 
seemed to her, that was a tender soul who had cared so 
considerately for the infants of the poor, and more 
and more she felt that in the woman’s nature there 
must be sweet founts that might be reached by little 
hands ; and there came over her a great yearning to- 
wards this unloved being, who, in her unremembered 
loneliness, had sent forth such a token of goodness to 
unknown babies. It occurred to her, that if the habit- 
ual barrier of reserve could be penetrated and the pre- 
cious humanities within once aroused by some gentle 
ministry, that Aunt Hannah might be drawn out of her 
seclusion to be a power in the world and a benediction 
to" others ; and she was strongly moved to rise up and 
go to her with such greeting as should open the way to 
more familiar amenities. But the Young Mother was 
proud and delicate and quixotic as any uncalculating 
soul, and her cheek colored as she fancied that her 
motive might possibly be misunderstood ; but a higher 
inspiration than that came upon her with the sudden 
pity that Aunt Hannah’s very wealth should shut her 
away from the approaches of real affection. Still, it 


170 


A UNT HANNAH. 


was not an easy matter to get nearer to an interior 
nature through the ordinary method of fcrmal visits, 
and the Young Mother, who had been a gay girl her- 
elf, had been frozen up like «J1 the other Young 
Aunties by the undemonstrative demeanor ; but at last 
the idea dawned on her that as Aunt Hannah must 
have a feeling for babies — or she never would have fur- 
nished those dainty cloaks — perhaps Baby might be the 
very best means by which to find her innermost heart. 
So Baby was forthwith arrayed in all her glory, and 
borne by Baby’s Nurse to the door of the grim, gray 
house, where Baby’s Young Mother took her in her 
own arms, and was admitted alone, by the primmest of 
footmen, to the silence of the solitary halls. 

Amid the oppressive shadows of the gloomy parlor 
she sat waiting with a beating heart for the grim, gray 
woman, over whose threshold, she compassionately 
meditated, no Other baby had ever come. Then slowly, 
stately, coldly, plain and pale, Aunt Hannah entered ; 
and before she could scarcely recognize her visitor in 
the dim light, the Young Mother had gone swiftly 
forward to her, and kissed her over and over on her 
lips, her eyes, her brow. People rarely kissed Aunt 


AUNT HANNAH. 


171 


Hannah, and then not often with particular warmth, bo 
that she was at once struck dumb with surprise. 

Then the Young Mother spoke in her earnest, win* 
ning voice : 

“ Dear Aunt Hannah, I am very sure you must love 
babies, so I have brought mine to see you.” And Baby, 
not a whit abashed by a stranger, put out her chubby 
arms, and cooed up into the new face as if she found 
nothing there to frighten, of grimness or of grayness ; 
but a strange pallor spread over the worn countenance, 
and the Young Mother saw with dismay that her cold- 
mannered kinswoman had commenced to tremble as 
with a chill. But Baby put up one of her dimpled 
hands, and touched the faded cheek, and the next in- 
stant the little golden-ringed head was clasped close to 
a heaving breast. The Young Mother was too amazed 
to speak ; she stood still a moment while the older 
woman mastered her unexpected emotion, for she 
instantly divined that the sight of her child had touched 
the chord of some passionate sorrow which had never 
died. But Aunt Hannah strove to assume her usual 
deportment, and to converse upon ordinary topics, 
though she never lifted her eyes off Baby’s small figure, 


172 


A UNT HANNAH. 


and her lips quivered as she talked, till at last, as if tho 
fountains of the great deep broke up, all at once she 
cried out suddenly, “ A baby ! a baby ! In my arms 
»*i my heart ! ” 

“And why not?” softly said the Young Mother 
“ they ar3 a woman’s arms ; it is a woman’s heart ! ” 
And Aunt Hannah looked at her as if half frightened 
at having betrayed her feelings, and half timidly, as 
if she scarcely expected to be believed. “ Dear,” she 
said, “ it must surprise you that I, of all people, should 
be so agitated at seeing your little one ; but, do you 
know, it is the first time in all my life I ever held a 
baby in my arms ? ” 

The Young Mother was almost shocked, knowing 
how often babies are more plentiful in the world than 
arms to hold them ; but then it was Aunt Hannah, and 
Aunt Hannah had lived shut up from the world, babies 
included, this many a long year. “ Dear Auntie,” she 
answered, “ perhaps I have disturbed you too much by 
bringing baby to you; but you see, we all think so 
much of our blessing that I could not bear that there, 
should be one member of the family who did not know 
her, -and I wanted you to love our darling too.” And 


A UNT HANNAH. 


173 


Aunt Hannah answered her slowly and sadly, “ It is a 
long time since I loved anything ! ” 

The Young Mother laid her soft hand on the one 
that still clung to her child, and the elder woman 
broke out in quicker words : “ I thought I she uld never 
love anything in this life again ; and now you have 
brought me a baby — of all things to me , a baby ! and it 
is stirring the old life in my heart once more ! ” and 
she drew the Young Mother close down to her, and 
whispered, half gasping, as if each syllable came forth 
with a wrench of pain : “ Don’t you know — have you 
never heard — that I too was once a mother ? ” “ No, 

Auntie,” answered the Young Mother, “ I did not know 
that ; and some day, dear, when you have come to love 
my Baby, will you tell me about yours?” and Aunt 
Hannah drew her closer, closer, whispering still, as if 
she could not breathe aloud the secret sorrow of her 
soul : u Yes, I was once a mother, but -I never had a 
baby ! ” and then answering the puzzled look which 
crossed the Young Mother’s face, she added, with a 
great sob, “ Oh, child ! my baby died before it w r as 
born.” And then the Young Mother understood that 
this disappointed hope had been the overflowing drop 


174 


AUNT HANNAH. 


of despair in Aunt Hannah’s bitter cup. What could 
she say to such a life-cherished grief, that had been a 
matter of so little moment in the family that it had 
been forgotten, or never spoken about, and yet which 
had helped to darken and make solitary this sad 
woman’s whole existence. She laid her fair cheek 
against the worn face. “ Dear, dear Auntie,” she said, 
“ I can imagine how hard that was ! To the mother- 
heart our child is always our child, and the greatness 
of the loss is not to be measured by the life ! ” Aunt 
Hannah clung to her, held her tight, and the arms of 
both women were around the Baby. 

“ Child, child,” she murmured, “ for thirty years I 
have not spoken of this ; I never, never could speak of 
it before ; my heart was broken then, for I lost all at 
once — all at once! Come with me,” she said, starting 
up, “ I must tell you all now, for you are a woman and 
a mother, and you will understand. Your Baby’s 
hands have torn away the seal of my silence ! ” And 
with Baby making unresisted clutches at her brooch, 
she kept her in her arms as she walked up the broad 
staircase, followed by the Young Mother with her 6oul 
full of wonder and sympathy. She led the way 


A UNT HAKNAH. 


175 


through dimly-lighted passages and shaded rooms, to 
one which at a first glance the Young Mother saw had 
been arranged as a nursery ; for there was a costly cradle 
in a corner, covered with faded silk and rich lace grown 
yellow with time ; and there was the dainty baby’s 
basket, with the same color paled away by the years, 
and a coral and bells lying on the bureau in whose 
drawers she surmised there were laid away the little 
garments that had never been worn ; and over the deep 
fireplace with its bright andirons, and piled-up un- 
lighted logs, there hung a man’s portrait which seemed 
to look down still upon Aunt Hannah’s plain and 
aging features with a young and loving face. And 
there the two women sat down together, and as Aunt 
Hannah poured out the story of her past to the Young 
Mother, Baby fell asleep with its tiny golden head 
nestled upon that bosom which had never before pil- 
lowed an infant’s slumber. 

" I was a very happy girl,” she said, u not merry and 
gay as your bright young sisters very likely are among 
themselves, but rather grave and silent, and a little shy 
in my ways, but still truly and peacefully happy. You 


176 


A UNT HANNAH. 


know your father and I lost our parents when we were 
children, but we grew up nevertheless under kindly 
and careful guardianship, and there was not a cloud in 
all the untroubled sky of my early years; and when 
jzve came to me it was so gradual, so natural and so 
sweet, that I never dreamed of the depth and intensity 
of my own nature ; and all things went so smoothly and 
pleasantly for me as regards my marriage — for my hus- 
band was young, well-born, well thought of, and very 
rich. And when he brought me home to this old house, 
which had been his father’s before him, and welcomed 
me into its walls with a grace and earnestness as charm- 
ing as it wa's precious, I lifted up my heart in wordless 
thanksgiving as the most blessed among women. We 
lived here two or three such happy, perfect years, that 
if it had not been for the memory of them I never, 
never could have borne the crushing weight of the 
after-desolation. Two or three years, and I had but one 
desire in the world. It seemed to me that a love so 
entire, so mutual, ought to blossom out in the crowning 
flower of a child that should be partly him and partly 
me, as the very personation and consecrated consumma- 
tion of our blended spirits. And at last my desiie was 


A UNT HANNAH. 


177 


about to be fulfilled. Dear, I can hardly tell you, it 
was something so strange and so sacred, with what lofty 
and holy aspirations 1 was filled. To be the author of 
a living soul, the originator of an immortal being, the 
selected instrument in the miracle of creation ! Oh, the 
mystery, the awe, the glory of it, filled me with humili- 
ty, with ecstasy, with daily worship. What a new 
world of visions and hopes opened on me; what an 
overwhelming sense of responsibility overmastered me ; 
what a going forth and clinging to the divine comforted 
me ! All my faculties enlarged, my instincts widened. 
I became part of the whole beating'pulse of humanity, 
since, in my exaltation, all humanity seemed also to be 
parent to my child. And there were times when the 
divinity of love so flooded my soul that I realized the 
emanation of all existence from the Fatherhood of God. 
I longed with inexpressible yearning that this coming 
being should be in all things pure and > unblemished 
and beautiful ; and I, who was no more myself to my- 
self, or of any worth save as the mother of my child, I 
was minutely careful of my acts, my thoughts, even of 
my surroundings. I studied and strictly conformed to 
physiological laws ; I read only the loftiest and noblest 


178 


AUNT HANNAH. 


books ; I steadfastly put away from me every narrow 
or unelevating sentiment ; I lived, moved, and bad my 
being in an atmosphere of exquisite harmony, inspiring 
pursuits, and delicious reveries. I lived long future 
years in my child’s life ; 1 peopled this old house and 
these silent rooms with other little shapes; I heard 
their footsteps on the stairs, their voices in the halls. I 
even lived in my children’s children ; and through it all 
always was the beloved face of their Father beaming on 
me, if possible, more tenderly as a Mother than a Wife. 
And I loved him so. I think only a woman can com- 
prehend the added sense of belonging, the solemn reali- 
zation of being really flesh of his flesh, bone of his bone, 
of being truly joined together beyond any possible 
chance of putting asunder, with which I loved my hus- 
band as the father of my child. And loving him so, 
living thus in my hopes and dreams, without a shadow 
as large as a man’s hand to warn me of the wrath to 
come, I saw him go forth one day, strong in his youth, 
full of health and happiness and lo^e, and in a single 
hour they had brought him home to me — quite dead ! 
He had been thrown from his horse, had struck his tem- 
ple in the fall, and had been killed instantly. After 


AUNT HANNAH. 


179 


that I remember nothing more. When my nind came 
back to me, I recollected that my baby ought to have 
been born, and my first looks searched for it and my 
first words asked for it. They told me, a little sadly, 
but as if they felt it was but a small calamity compared 
with the greater loss, that it had died before it was 
born. Its father’s death had slain it. When they told 
me that, I answered never a word, but turned my face 
to the wall and laid there for days like a stone. And 
it seemed to me as if my heart had turned to stone 
within me. What could others know of my dead hopes, 
my buried visions ? What understanding could any one 
else have that I was torn asunder, had lost flesh of my 
flesh, bone of my bone, was a mere nothing and part ol 
being in becoming less than a wife and mother- -a mere 
desolate self, the wreck of what was once a complete 
woman ! So I never said much to any one. My sor- 
row was deeper than words, almost deeper than tears ; 
and I took up my life again in a dull sort of wa y] never 
caring greatlv for anything more, and have lived ever 
since alone with my dead. When I knew your Baby 
had been born, so near to me, my heart trembled 
towards it ; and when I heard about your Baby’s Party, 


180 


A UNT HANNAS. 


somehow a tender feeling towards those little waifs 
came over me ; and now that you have brought this lit 
tie one here, see how the very sight and touch of a 
baby has pierced the long repression, and opened up 
the very secrets of my soul ! ” 

With reverent and caressing hand the Young 
Mother drew the drooping head upon her shoulder. 
“ Dearest Auntie,” she said, “ because I too am a 
mother, I understand all of it — the joy, the aspiration, 
the hope, the awful sorrow, and the life-long void. 
And I know — I know there can never be any love like 
the love you have lost on earth ; but dear, dear Auntie ! 
if you will let us all come about you, you do not know 
how tenderly we will all feel towards you, and what 
a real pleasure it will be to every one of us to be with 
you, to love you, to make your life a little less lonely, 
ft is not good for any one to be alone so much ; and 
with a heart so capable of loving, you would have more 
2omfort than you think in giving out feelings to others. 
Dear Auntie, may I send Eaby to you often, and bring 
the girls round to cheer you up ? ” 

Aunt Hannah sat silent a moment. “ Child,” at 
length she answered, “there is so little in me to interest 


A U1TT HANNAH. 


181 


you young people ! I have lived shut up with my past 
and my books so long that your world is like a strange 
land to me ; my ways are not your ways.” 

“ You are our own dear Auntie,” replied the Young 
Mother, “ and we are going to love yon, and make you 
love us just as you are. Only let your heart come out 
to us, and we will try and bring you a little happiness 
to brighten up this long gloom and solitude ! ” 

And Aunt Hannah had tears in her eyes and sobs in 
her voice as she said : “ Dear, you shall all come to me 
if you will, for I have been lonelier than any one 
knew, and I did not dare to let myself feel till this 
minute how much I longed for other souls.” 

And after that the two women talked long together ; 
talked much of the family, and a little more of the dead, 
and naturally then upon that most universal of all sub- 
jects, the life beyond the grave, and the hope of meeting 
again the loved ones who had gone before. And when 
the Young Mother dwelt upon the beautiful faith, and 
6poke to Aunt Hannah as if her lost baby was surely an 
angel in the heavens, Aunt Hannah made sad reply : 

“ Ah ! dear, how do I know ? Ho sign has ever been 
made me from the other side. And the best authorities 


182 


AUNT HANNAH. 


cannot tell whether a human being is really a soul till 
the hour of its birth ; and it is of souls we cherish our 
dreams of immortality. All these long years I have 
beat against the blind wall of an ignorance that can 
never be enlightened in this world. I have studied all 
that has been written about it, and at last — at last, I 
can only say, ‘ I do not know ! ’ This thought of the 
Beyond is with me always. To me my husband always 
is — no reason destroys that faith ; but about my baby 
all is doubt 1 I think if I had seen its face I might 
have had more sureness, and I have spent hours upon 
hours trying to see with my heart how it might have 
looked ; but it is always dim, shadowy, far off from me 
— I cannot make it alive. I have lived in sorrow upon 
the memory of a dream.’’ 

The Young Mother’s heart was too full for speech. 
Here was a new phase of grief for which she knew no 
consolation ; for she was not wise in metaphysics, and 
her simple trust had never known aught of those refine- 
ments of casuistry with which brooding and solitude 
torture searching intellects. Only the many, many 
melancholy days and unhappy nights of this life-long 
desolation rose up before her, and the sympathy of her 


AUNT HANNAH. 


183 


whole loving nature welled over to this stricken woman 
who could not even look out to the realms above and 
behold her baby’s face as ’t were the face of an angel. 

After that there began a new life about Aunt 
Hannah. Baby went to her every day ; and in Baby’s 
Nurse she instinctively perceived that there too was 
one who had suffered, and there came to be a gentle 
ministry of unspoken interest between the two thal 
brought healing to each. Then the Young Auntie? 
began to drop in — a little shyly and very respectfully 
at first, but soon warming up into their natural selves as 
more constant companionship wore off reserve on both 
sides ; the quips and quirks came back in her presence, 
and the airy gossip was no longer withheld. Aunt 
Hannah’s heart was younger thau she knew, for all her 
youth had only been buried under her sudden and 
nourished affliction, and began to bubble up again in 
familiar intercourse with youthful spirits ; and soon the 
old house was seldom without one or other of these gay 
and merry girls. The Grandfathers walked round of 
evenings to chat with her, and even talked with her 
sometimes of 6tocks and markets and business ven 


184 


AUNT HANNAH. 


tures, as one having many moneyed concerns, Mid said to 
each other that “ Hannah was not wanting in good, 
soimd sense.” The hearty Grandmothers trotted in 
and out on all sorts of errands, till Aunt Hannah was 
almost bewildered by the multiplicity of interests 
which dawned on her, and the deference with which 
these kindly old ladies regarded her opinions and sug- 
gestions. But in truth the hearts of all these women 
were touched to the core by the thought of that unused 
cradle in the empty room ; and the remembrance of it 
made them very gentle and earnest towards the lonely 
woman. The Young Father and the Young Mother 
seemed to think there was no one like her, and the 
Poor Relation grew as dear to her as a sister. And 
Aunt Hannah was fast learning that the love of kin- 
dred and the exchange of intimate affection was the 
very sweetness of life itself. 

And the solitary home commenced to blossom like a 
rose. First one window and then another was opened, 
till the glad sunlight filled every crack and cranny of the 
once silent halls and gloomy rooms. Then one Young 
Auntie and then another brought in a pot of dowel's, 
and the color and beauty were like a welcome surprise 


A TINT HANNAH. 


185 


where the shadows used to lurk, and in a little while 
all the sills were bright with blooms ; and one day a 
blithe canarv made the wondering walls ring with its 
echoing melody ; and so came back life, and light, and 
music to the grim and gray old house. 

And when a delicate pink tint settled on Aunt Han- 
nah’s faded cheek, and her eyes took to shining at the 
new order of things, the audacious Young Aunties 
never rested till they had arranged her hair in more 
modern style, and got her dress altered to the fashion 
of the day ; and they rummaged through long-locked 
presses, and found rare old creamy laces and beautiful 
jewels, and took as much delight in decking her out 
with them as though they were children adorning a 
favorite doll ; and then they danced around her in ad- 
miration, and marched her up to mirrors and bade her 
look how young and pretty she was growing, almost as 
pretty as the darling Baby herself — the Baby, who was 
the Young Aunties’ highest standard of perfection ; 
and wondered in their own hearts how they ever could 
have thought Aunt Ilannali a grim and gray old 
woman ; for love and companionship had freshened 
her face as well as her soul, and the strangeness and 


186 


A UNT HANNAH. 


the sweetness of being sought and petted and made 
much of by these young people made her heart very 
warm and soft towards them, so that she was as pliable 
as wax in their hands, and they did nearly as they 
pleased with her. And a quaint, hidden humor began 
to sparkle dryly up in her talk which struck out 
answering fun from these merry girls, and so it came 
about in time that Aunt Hannah felt that she gave as 
much amusement as she shared. 

Grandfather No. One was never tired of expressing 
his joy at his sister’s altered ways, and Grandfather No. 
Two thought it was as good as a play ; the Grand 
mothers said it was a “ resurrection ; ” the Young 
Father told his wife she was a magician, and the Young 
Mother answered that it was the dear Baby who had 
wrought the miracle ; but the Poor Relation, sitting in 
the twilight with the Crippled Sister, said that “ it was 
all the goodness of God.” 

The primmest of footmen was driven distracted by 
these remarkable changes, and was dimly conscious 
that they had reached even to him, and that he him- 
self was no longer quite the same either ; he had to 
open the hall-door so often and answer so many cheer- 


A UNT HANNAH. 


187 


ful voices, that his own lost something of its sepulchral 
tone, and with half a dozen gay young Aunties flying 
in and out all day long, asking all sorts of questions and 
giving all kinds of orders, it was impossible to maintain 
the solemnity of an undertaker; gradually, under the 
exactions of these busy spirits, the dignity of his office 
relaxed, and he found himself doing ever so many 
things that had no relation to his position as a footman, 
and quite incompatible with continued primness. At 
first, in the confidence of the lower regions, he was 
inclined to resent the increase and alterations of his 
functions, and said more than once that he “ Couldn’t 
stay where there was so many goings on, though he 
had lived with the Missus ever since he wore buttons.” 
But he never could get away from those Young 
Aunties ; at the first prim sign of insubordination de- 
livered in the most sepulchral tones, his puzzled brain 
was tormented with the wildest of chaff, and he retired 
to the lower regions again in utter bewilderment as to 
whether he was the most important or the most ridi- 
culed footman that ever donned livery. Then the 
plants and the bird seemed to afford him unusual inter- 
est, and he was observed to steal into the rooms and 


188 


A UNT HANNAH 


take surreptitious sniffs at the flowers, while he almost 
surfeited the canary with furtive offerings of sugar. In 
a little while he actually took to smiling paternally on 
the pranks of the Young Aunties, and in the course jf 
time became the abject slave of these arbitrary damsels. 

The fat coachman, as he himself expressed it, “ was 
just turned topsy-turvy ; scarcely knew if he was on his 
head or his heels with so much going and coming ; and 
the horses were a-getting thin with exercising, and the 
flesh was a-wearing off his own bones ! ” 

“ Jeems,” he said to the prim footman in a confiden 
tial conference in the lower regions, “Jeems, they 
ain’t nateral, these rum changes. When folkses have 
lived such a lot of years along all quiet and easy, why 
they can’t keep on comfortable without stirring every- 
body up I’m blowed if I can see I ” 

“ But, after all,” replied James, “ the changes are 
kinder pleasant when you get used to ’em ; we’d got so 
set into being gruesome that we didn’t know there was 
anything better in the world till the Missus’ relations 
came round. I’m sure I pretty near a-yawned my head 
off many a night in this very room for want of some- 
thing to think about I ” 


A UNT HANNAH. 


189 


“ Well, I guess you got it now,” said the fat coach- 
man, “ for I ain’t hardly got time to think at all between 
’em all. But it’s them gals as aggerawate3 me the 
worst. They’re as full of tricks as monkeys, and you 
never know whether they’re poking fun at you or not, 
even when they gives you an order.” 

“Oh,” answered James, in the warmth of his new 
allegiance, “ they’re young and light-hearted ; they 
don’t mean harm ; and I’m sure there ain’t many young 
ladies as would be as free-spoken and cordial, even to 
old servants like us. They’ve a nice way of making 
you feel as if you were just as good as themselves, and 
know you won’t presume on it.” 

“ Entirely too free-spoken for my idees,” retorted the 
fat coachman ; “ for half the time you don’t know what 
they’re talking about ; and there’s one of ’em keeps 
a -calling me out of my name all the while, as if it was 
a joke, and a-proddin’ at me about widders, as if I was 
given to gallivanting round. ‘ Mr. Weller,’ she says 
to me, and she turns to the Missus, and says she, ‘Now 
Auntie, ain’t he Mr. Weller out and out ? ’ and the 
Missus she smiles, first at her and then at me — and I 
must say the Missus is a differing-looking woman since 


190 


AUNT HANNAH. 


she took to smiling — and she says, 4 Mr. Weller is an in 
vallable coachman ! ’ And then the young nn she looks 
at me with a long face, and says very solemn, 4 But, Mr. 
Weller, you must beware of the widders ! ' ‘I don’t 
know none ! ’ says I, getting red, for thinks 1, 4 maybe 
somebody’s been telling lies about me ! ’ 4 Widders 

are dangerous, Mr. Weller,’ she keeps on. ‘Well, 
Miss,’ says I, 4 1 ain't after no widders, and I ain't 
afeard o’ none!’ and the Missus she just laughs out, 
the first time I heard her laugh since she was like that 
same young un there, before the drefful time when they 
brought the Master home stiff and stark ; and you 
know it kinder made me choke all up to hear her laugh 
again ; and I makes my best bow, and says I, 4 If you 
please, miss, I’ll look out for widders, and I’ll be 
Weller or anybody else, if it’s going to make my Missus 
laugh like that ! ’ and that there young un she just 
lumped up, and grabbed my hand, and shook it, and 
said she, 4 You dear old Weller, if you ain’t good 
enough to be the blessed Pickvick hisself ! ’ There’s 
another name she’s got for me, and blow me if the 
whole of ’em ain’t at it ever since, first one with theii 
Weller and another with their Pickvick, and a -ordering 


AUNT HANNAH. 


191 


me to drive to tlie Markess of Granby, when they mean 
the summer-house on the hill, and I just believe they’re 
half cracked ! and between ’em all, and the hosses 
a-1 ailing off, and the everlasting stirring up, my capes is 
a-getting as loose as an old blouse ! ” 

And the fat coachman kept on grumbling, but the 
roomy coach was kept always bright, the old horses 
groomed as sleek as satin, and the Young Aunties de- 
clared that his eyes twinkled in his fat cheeks when 
they called him Weller. 

Some little time after Aunt Ilannah had thus been 
restored to the activities of life, her conscience began to 
reproach her for her many years of indulgence in soli- 
tude and uselessness she seemed to feel that she owed 
a debt to humanity for her long withdrawal from its 
interests and requirements, and she became almost eager 
in her quiet way to take up some work by which the 
rest of her existence could be made to compensate for 
the idle and aimless past. Through contact with other 
busy spirits she became cognizant of undeveloped ener- 
gies in herself, and she grew restless in her outlook for 
some worthy effort. Hither ;o she had thought but lit 


192 


A UNT HANNAH. 


tie of her accumulated wealth ; her abundance, having 
Deen a matter of habit, had been taken as a matter of 
course, and its comings in and its goings out had been 
regulated only by her individual needs and luxuries ; but 
now the burden of her possessions pressed on her, the 
inequalities of human fortunes touched her tender soul, 
she grew into comprehension of her stewardship, and 
longed to find a judicious and beneficial channel into 
which to direct her unemployed riches for the helping 
and salvation of others. At last this constant thought 
and yearning became almost a trouble to her, and she 
must fain open her full heart to the Ydung Mother and 
the wise old Grandmothers, who entered into her feel- 
ings and plans with a zest and sympathy all the greater, 
perhaps, with one of them, that she felt a little guilty in 
her own mind of having made sundry calculations on 
the probable distribution of Aunt Hannah’s fortune ; 
but even she was just enough to perceive that the alle- 
viation of the many was a higher purpose than the 
enriching of the few, and an earnest interest was 
yielded to the lonely woman who was so unaffectedly 
reaching out to do good. Then, too, it is a curious 
peculiarity of our complicated human nature that the 


AUNT HANNAH. 


193 


disappointment of future advantage may be condoned 
by present confidence and the privileged pleasure of 
co-operation and assistance in the very object which 
changes the direction of bestowal ; for to be personally 
valued by some particular people is often more gratify- 
ing than the mere anticipation or reception of their 
generosity. So these women held many a disinterested 
consultation, discussed scheme after scheme, went 
about together to hospitals and asylums, and studied 
great charities, if thereby they might light upon the 
best thing to be effected— but without success ; for all 
understood that whatsoever her hand might find to do, 
it was Aunt Hannah’s wish that she should do it with 
her own might, that she desired to absorb her own per- 
sonality in it, and pass the rest of her days in service 
acceptable to the Lord. 

But the Young Mother, having her Baby for inspi- 
ration, and having once seen into the depths of that 
eensitiv: heart which had been plunged into solitude by 
the deprivation of motherhood, divined at last the 
truest direction to satisfy the searching spirit. 

“ Dear Aunt Hannah,” she said one day, when they 

were alone, “ it seems to me that in the work you are 
13 


194 


A JJNT IIAXXAK 


looking for you need something on which you can 
expend love as well as money ; it is a dry business just 
doing a general good without one’s own emotions are 
exercised at the same time. As a woman, what your 
nature is craving is not that wide, vague affection for 
all humanity which would make you help just for 
humanity’s sake ; that is very grand, but the glow of it 
is too exalted to be continual in one’s daily feelings. 
You need some little part of humanity to come near to 
you as your very own, to cherish and to aid. You 
want it in your home, in your every-day life, to fill the 
nooks and corners of your hungry heart. And, dear 
Auntie, I think there is only one thing that will do all 
this for you, for you are one of those women in whom 
the mother-instinct is stronger than any other, if you 
will only give it a chance. You have no children, and 
in this unequal world there are so many, many poor 
babies who have no mothers. You have this large, 
empty house, and a warm heart ready to take in the 
helpless. Fill them with babies. Take into your 
loving arms these little waifs that are left unloved, and 
I think, dear Auntie, that such a work would be a 
blessing to you every way.” 


A UNT HANNAH. 


195 


Aunt Ilannali caught at the idea at once ; and the 
Grandmothers said “it was the very thing!” and 
they wondered they had not thought of it before ; the 
Grandfathers shrugged their shoulders, and remarked 
that u all women were mad on the subject of babies ! ” 
which observation the Young Aunties immediately 
proved by expressing their delight in exaggerated 
adjectives ; while the Poor Relation told the Crippled 
Sister about it with appreciative tears in her soft eyes. 

Then into the gray old house were brought little 
friendless orphans, and the prim footman was kept dis- 
tractinglv busy with the comings in of cribs and 
cradles and all the other needed paraphernalia of 
infancy; and in finding her vocation, Aunt Hannah 
had created a new interest for other lives ; the Grand- 
mothers could scarcely bear to stay away from those 
once empty rooms now made full and vocal ; they felt 
the value of their advice and experience ; they trotted 
about, rosy and important, in the service of these small' 
prote es and more than once bore in their own arms, 
from the haunts of poverty and the embrace of dead 
mothers, some helpless babe to the saving refuge of this 
ready home. The Young Mother’s susceptible heart 


196 


AUNT HANNA U. 


overflowed with yearning towards the parentless nurs- 
lings, and her love for her own Baby made all these 
sacred and beautiful and precious in her sight. The 
Poor Relation came in among them as one born with 
gift to soothe their sufferings and still their cries, and 
the motherhood of her woman’s soul developed when 
she took these children in her arms and blessed them. 
The Fat Nurse found her way there with her mysterious 
basket, and was always cordially welcomed, for many 
a useful hint was dropped from beneath the coal-scuttle 
bonnet, and more than one sage suggestion emphasized 
with the bulgy umbrella. But the Young Aunties were 
quite absorbed in the new enterprise ; they constituted 
themselves amateur nurses, and learned patience in the 
labor ; they rocked cradles to the measure of favorite 
operas; they picked out particular infants, and gos- 
siped about their beauties with as much relish as over 
their beaux ; they discussed the latest arrival as eagerly 
as the last fashion ; they knit up pounds upon pounds 
of zephyr into warm and fluffy infantile wraps ; and 
even the babies’ eyes brightened in recognition of their 
gay voices and sunny faces ; but through it all, though 
others might charm their hearts, their own Baby 


A TINT HANNAH. 


197 


reigned supreme fetisli still, and the one unrivalled 
standard of comparison. Even the Grandfathers 
found themselves drawn into the general attraction, 
and were occasionally captured and taken triumphantly 
through rows of bahies in that stirring gray house that 
they had so long known in its sombre loneliness, and 
ware touched into sending wholesale presents of rat- 
tles and unlimited supplies of arrow-root, besides allow- 
ing themselves amiably to be laid under all sorts 
of contributions therefor by the insatiable Young 
Aunties, without the usual masculine protest at such 
assailing. 

In Aunt Hannah herself the change wrought by her 
worlc seemed little less than miraculous ; no one would 
have known her for the reserved, sorrowful woman she 
was before. Her hands and time were so full that si- 
lence and solitude were no longer practicable; she had 
so much to do that it gave her also a great deal to say, 
every faculty was utilized, every energy brought into 
play, and she blossomed out into a matronly sweetness 
and earnest motherliness that set its impress on her 
altered appearance. 

Even the prim footman manifested the most unex 


193 


AUNT HANNAH. 


pected aptitudes under tlie circumstances; and being 
the only man in the house with so many unprotected 
females and their charges, assumed a sort of paternal 
responsibility whose unction greatly tempered his 
primness, so that he made shy passes at the babies by 
chucking them under their chins, and was more than 
once observed to be slyly dandling a stray infant under 
the friendly shade of spreading trees in the garden. 
And the fat coachman was busier than ever — almost too 
busy to growl, especially as the Young Aunties were 
too much taken up with the babies that he carefully 
drove out for their airings, to torment him so unreason- 
ably about imaginary widows. 

So Aunt Hannah’s Orphan Asylum became a rec- 
ognized institution, not only in the immediate family, 
but in the whole appreciating town. It met a great 
want, and before long grew into proportions never 
anticipated at first. Little did this gentle woman, who 
had put her hand so willingly to this work, ever 
imagine how great the need of it had been, and how 
many motherless waifs there were to be rescued 
from uukindness, neglect, and death. Soon the gray 
old house was too crowded and too small, and it 


A UNT HANNAH . 


109 


wrung Aunt Hannah’s heart to have tc turn away into 
the cold charity of the outside world a single baby that 
was brought to her door; so first one wing was added, 
and then another, and more of earth’s deserted little 
ones were gathered into this saving fold. And still 
they came, more and more, till in this ministry of love 
even Aunt Hannah’s ample resources began to be 
strained and insufficient for further admittances. And 
as she pondered over this a little sadly one day, she 
was accosted by the prim footman in a state of pertur- 
bation and embarrassment quite unusual to that worthy 
servitor. 

“ If you please, ma’am,” he began somewhat hesitat- 
ingly and very crimson in the face, “ I’d like to say a 
few words. I’ve lived with you pretty near all my life, 
ma’am, and God and yourself willing, hope to die in 
your service ; and not having a chick nor a child of my 
own, and never expecting to, I’ve saved up a lot of my 
wages with no particular purpose ; and as I’m as inter- 
ested in the babies as anybody, and I know, ma’am, 
begging your pardon, that you’ve been a-worrying be- 
cause there ain’t room enough, why, I’d just like this 
money of mine to go towards building a bit or so more 


200 


A UNT HANNAH. 


If you’ll please, ma’am, to take it, I’ll tliink it well 
earned and well-spent.” 

And Aunt Hannah was quite overcome with this 
generosity, but reasoned with James about it, very nn 
willing to take from him his treasured savings ; but the 
prim footman was not to bo denied, and answered 
firmly, “ If I died, ma’am, I should leave my money to 
this here asylum, and glad of something to do with it, 
as I’ve got no kinfolks, and I might as well see the 
good of it with my living eyes!” So Aunt Hannah 
comprehended that he would be greatly hurt and dis- 
appointed if she refused his assistance ; and as the 
prim footman had had little temptations to spend, his 
accumulation proved to be larger than might have been 
supposed, and afforded quite a respectable addition, 
which was built out towards the garden, and called in 
his honor “ James’ Ward.” And the delight exhibited 
thereat by the prim footman was quite a sight to see. 
lie watched every brick and stone with affectionate 
interest, peered into the lime-kiln, and hovered round 
(lie hods; all his leisure was devoted to superintending 
with intense solicitude the rearing of the walls ; he 
waited on the workmen with untiring zeal, and was 


A UNT HANNAH. 


201 


e\en suspected of having occasionally laid a few lines 
of mortar himself ; he would hardly sleep in his im 
patience and anxiety to see the roof actually on ; and 
when at last all was finished, and the superfluous 
babies had overflowed into the new rooms from the 
main building, the prim footman adopted these as his 
especial favorites and care, so that at length, to Jiis 
supreme enjoyment, they came to be called u James’ 
Children ; ” and as time went on, under the combined 
effects of busy days and perpetual babies, his primness 
all wore away, and he mellowed into a genial sort of 
general father, and quite forgetting the dignified 
limitations of a footman, was often to be seen in the 
long walks of the old-fashioned garden, patiently and 
tenderly carrying some ailing infant through the fresh 
air, or sitting on his particular bench beneath the 
largest tree with one, or even two babies on his knees 
playing with the buttons that were worn above such a 
kind and faithful heart. 

Once, when the needs were many and the laborers 
still too few, the Poor Relation was surprised, as she sat 
by the Crippled Sister, by a visit from Aunt Hannah, 
who simply said to her : “ Dear, I have more than I can 


202 


A UNT HANNAH. 


do, and require help. You must come to me and he 
my right hand.” But the Boor Relation only looked 
over at the white couch and frail figure, under whose 
transparent fingers the white flowers were growing upon 
a flowing robe ; and Aunt Hannah put her arms around 
her and said softly : “ Hot alone, dear, oh, not alone ! 
both must come, for there is work and welcome for 
both!” 

And the Boor Relation, wdiose humble home had felt 
very lonely since the Sunset of Life had fallen on the 
Aged Father and Mother, turned to this one of her very 
own who was left to her, and asked : “ Sister, shall w r e 
go?” And the Crippled Sister dropped the snowy 
muslin, and put forth a trembling hand to each, as she 
answered with a quivering voice, “ Inasmuch as ye do 
it to the least of these, my little ones, ye do it unto 
Me ! ” So, a little while afterwards, the Grandfathers 
themselves came and carried the Crippled Sister down 
o a mattress in the roomy coach, from out of that one 
apartment wdiicli she had not left for so many years ; 
and nothing could exceed the carefulness with which 
the fat coachman slowly drove over picked ways to the 
gray old house, where also were conveyed the white 


A UNT UAXNATT. 


203 


couch, the blithe bird, and all the other familiar things 
upon which her eyes had rested in the olden home; 
and in their midst the Crippled Sister still worked on, 
only now her skillful hands fashioned only garments 
for the babies ; and hither followed her, also, her loving 
scholars to find increased knowledge in a wider school 
of humanity ; and all the rest of her days passed away 
in such pleasantness and peace as her condition would 
admit; and not the Poor Relation only, but Aunt Han- 
nah and all the rest went in to her for that spiritual 
strength which seemed to flow in upon her open soul 
from the very secret places of the Most High. 

Years went on and on; Aunt Hannah’s work and 
will never faltered. Babies came and came, and the 
mother-heart took them all in — took them all in and 
cherished and reared them for the life that is, and the 
life that is to come. She lived to be an old woman, 
with a soul full of wisdom, and her face came to be as 
the face of one who had talked with God, with the love 
that was in it. And the Young Mother would almost 
have thought in time that she had put away the grief 
and memories of her youth amid the beautiful interests 
of her busy age, if she had not known that always 


204 


A TJNT HA NX An. 


in that gray old house there was kept a single room 
unused, in which there was an empty cradle where no 
baby ever slept; and she wondered, sometimes, if, 
among all the active concerns of her beneficent life, 
she had nourished still the strange doubt which had 
tortured the brooding loneliness of that unmentioned 
past, for Aunt Hannah never again recurred to the 
story of her sorrow. But at last, when the time was 
ripe, Aunt Hannah lay upon her dying bed, surrounded 
by loving spirits and mourned for by hundreds outside ; 
when the Young Aunties — some of them also mothers 
then — wept bitterly and would not be comforted ; when 
only the one Grandfather and the one Grandmother 
who were left, bent their white heads before the 
mystery they too were soon to meet. When Baby’s 
Nurse paused in her ineffectual ministry, the Young 
Mother, who had become a comely matron with Baby 
a grown-up young lady at her side, recalled that mem- 
orable morning in the long ago, when the lonely woman 
had told her with hopeless tears, of the child who had 
died before it was born. And lo, as she looked down 
upon the pale face resting on the Poor Belat ; on’s 
gentle bosom, the eyes suddenly opened and looked 


AUNT HANNAH. 


205 


into hers; with the failing strength the aged hand 
caught lie* own and drew her close, as the last words, 
which she only completely understood, fell from the 
lips already cold in death ' X have seen my baby ; its 
face was the face of the owing, and it had its father’s 
eyes I ” 


baby’s nose is out of joint 


13 A3 y could not understand it at all ; slie only com- 
prehended in her small way that a great change had 
come over everything in her little world. The dear 
Young Mother lay very pale and quiet on her bed, 
and Baby’s crib had been removed from her side into 
the chamber of Baby’s Nurse, all of whose tenderness 
and patience could not supply the loss — when, restless 
in the new place, Baby woke in the night — of the low, 
familiar tones, and the soft caress of the maternal hand 
that always soothed, because Baby knew it so well, and 
felt such a sense of security and peace under it. 

The Fat Nurse had come in one day in her coal- 
scuttle bonnet, with her bulgy umbrella and never-fail- 
ing basket. But she had come to stay, for the basket 
had been deposited in the closet, with its faded green 
ribbon strings all untied ; the umbrella had been care- 


BABY'S NOSE IS OUT OF JOINT. 


207 


fully stood in a remote corner, and tlie big bonnet 
replaced by a stiffly -starched frilled cap that struck 
awe into Baby’s heart ; and as somehow Baby diml} 
connected the arrival of this important personage with 
the beginning of her troubles, she looked upon that 
florid countenance with no favorable eye, especially as 
the Fat Nurse was so absorbed in a white bundle on 
her lap that she took very little notice of Baby Number 
One. Nor could Baby see any reason why that same 
long white bundle should attract the attention of every 
one who came in almost to the exclusion of Baby’s 
hitherto most prominent self ; and the ominous phrase, 
“ Baby’s nose is out of joint,” so often repeated, seemed 
to imply some usurpation of her infantile rights, and 
such a relegation to the background, that when the Fat 
Nurse at last condescended to hold the white bundle 
low down for her sisterly inspection, her only impulse 
was to double her dimpled fist and make an effort to 
punch the tiny bald head suddenly presented to her 
bewildered view. 

First, when Baby’s Nurse had brought her in fresh 
and rosy from her bath, to receive the Young Mother’s 
languid morning kiss, this new-comer had been held 


208 


BABY'S NOSE IS OUT OF JOINT 


up for due observance, and Baby’s Nurse had clasped 
her close to her breast, and said “ Baby’s nose is out of 
joint ” with such a sad inflection in her voice, that 
Baby felt that some misfortune had befallen her, and 
that this white doll with the scarlet face was the occa- 
sion of it. And the Fat Nurse had responded, “ Turn, 
about, fair play ! ” in such an unsympathetic tone, that 
Baby hated her forthwith. 

Then the Young Father had come in, and was very 
tender over his pale wife, and passing Baby by, had 
gone across the room, and leaned over the new child, 
looking at it silently for a moment, touching its downy 
cheek gently with his finger, and then, as Baby keenly 
felt, with his notice only partly engrossed by her, had 
taken her in his arms for the usual greeting and toss, 
exclaiming half abstractedly and half triumphantly, 
“ Baby’s nose is out of joint ! ” Baby’s nose began to 
have a queer sensation, and was very nearly twisted for 
a burst of crying, as the Fat Nurse replied: “It’s 
natnr’ sir! Babies comes and babies goes, and noses 
ain’t steady long.” The Young Father laughed a 
happy little laugh, and went off to his office with his 
heart brimming over with joy at the Young Mother’s 


BAHT'S FOSE IS OUT OF JOINT. 


209 


safety, and the addition of another darling to his house- 
hold, and left Baby feeling more and more that the 
Fat Nurse was her mortal enemy. 

Then Baby had been banished from the Young 
Mother’s room, which had been her only nursery, to 
another afar off, where she vented herself for two or 
three days in all the ill-tempers of babyhood ; and 
when she was just about to find consolation in a bald- 
pated dolly that had a towel pinned round it to repre- 
sent the white bundle down stairs, and which she 
could shake and slap to her heart’s content, she was 
suddenly called for to go and see the Grandfather^ 
who had come to welcome their last grandchild into 
this mortal world. And lo ! as she entered at the door 
Grandfather Number Two shook his gold-headed cane 
as if he was threatening her, and called out lustily : 
“Ha! ha! little one, your nose is out of joint!” and 
Grandfather Number One echoed the phrase just 
a shade less forcibly. And the Fat Nurse began to 
trot down a rising whine from the new-found voice, 
accompanying the motion with the refrain, “ Out of 
joint, out of jointy, jointy, jointy, joint ! ” So that 

when, in a new accession of wrath, Baby declined to be 
14 


210 


BABY'S NOSE IS OUT OF JOINT. 


received upon the Grandpaternal knees, the ancient 
men clinched ner under the chin, and smiling at each 
other as if it was a good joke, said merrily : “ The little 
vixen is jealous ! ” and Baby experienced for the first 
time that Grandfathers are a delusion and a snare. 

The Grandmothers rustled in, with their rosy faces 
and shining black silks, and chirruped to the Young 
Mother, and gossiped over the new baby, with just 
a careless kiss to Baby, who began to watch with sensi- 
tive spirit for tokens of inattention and displacement, 
till at last one of them, laying her hand upon the 
golden curls, said conclusively: “ Well, Nurse, it is 
a very fine child, and this one’s nose is out of joint 1 ” 
And the Fat Nurse, like an everlasting echo, had 
responded: “Every dog must have his day!” And 
Baby turned her large eyes reproachfully upon the 
frilled cap, as if wondering why, when her old friend 
had removed her big bonnet, she should thus take part 
with every one against her former nursling. 

The roomy coach, driven by the hat Coachman, 
brought Aunt Hannah to the unusually quiet house, 
where the missing of the sweet presence going in and 
out of the rooms gave all but the one an aspect of lone 


BABY'S NOSE IS OUT OF JOINT. 


211 


liness and emptiness. She had taken the new baby in 
her arms, and sat holding it awhile with her face full 
of blessing and love; Baby stood a little way off, look- 
ing at her wistfully, and waiting for the inevitable re- 
mark, and then, as if magnetized by the yearning that 
softened the brooding features, she slowly drew anear, 
and leaned up against her. Quickly one arm was disen- 
gaged from the white bundle, and went around the 
small figure not too steadfast yet upon its chubby feet, 
and the thoughtful eyes were turned upon the almost im- 
ploring little countenance lifted to her own, and Aunt 
Hannah saw there something that no one else had ob- 
lerved, for she said, half-question ingly, “ I wonder if 
*his wee creature feels that her pretty nose is out of 
joint ? ” to which the Fat Nurse heartlessly replied, 
“I reckon she’s most too young to feel much yet, and 
anyhow, she’ll soon get used to it ! ” Poor Baby began 
to have a dim perception that there was no longer any 
hope for her, and that the repetition of this bitter phrase 
spread desolation over her early da}*s. The bright 
Young Aunties floated in, gay and gushing over the 
great event ; and they cooed, and gurgled, and talked 
baby talk over the strange arrival, and tenderly touch 


212 BABY'S VOSE IS OUT OF JOINT. 

• 

eel its mites of hands, and insisted on being shown its 
tinted feet and tiny toes, till Baby’s heart swelled with- 
in her, for perhaps she remembered, as it was not so 
long ago, that they had once gone on in the same way 
over her now neglected self. It was too much that this 
red-faced, bald-headed bundle should rob her of the 
allegiance of these devoted adherents ; too much that 
the flattery of their ringing voices should be turned 
aside from their hitherto spoiled and reigning darling ; 
that the pet names should be transferred and the faith- 
less admiration changed to a new object. What to the 
grown woman is the misery of power and love passing 
away to a rival, was Baby’s experience of this fickleness 
of adulation ; her small brow puckered, and her rose- 
bud of a mouth began to quiver ; and as a woman ex- 
erts all her arts to win back again the waning influence, 
so the undeveloped cunning of womanhood born in an 
infant’s breast, caused Baby to put forth all her hither- 
to irresistible wiles to attract the altered attention. 
And the Young Aunties saw through the device and 
made themselves merry over it, and petted her fondly, 
but with a side glance still at the new baby; and as 
though conscious of a diminished interest in their here- 


BABY'S KOBE IS OUT OF JOINT. 


213 


tofore idol, passed her from one to another with a man- 
ner that was partly self-excusing, as each said to each, 
“ But our Baby’s nose is out of joint ! ” 

The childish heart was very full, but not yet did the 
cup overflow, until the Poor Itelation entered the room, 
and catching a glimpse of the young face with the 
shadow of a first sorrow on it, murmured as though she 
comprehended the situation, “ Ah ! the poor little nose 
is out of joint.” That was the last drop ! That she 
too, the best beloved, should echo this unceasing re- 
proach, and sting the suffering soul with these repeated 
words of doom, even though spoken in compassion, 
was more than could be longer endured. Then Baby 
went quickly aside, and turning her face from all of 
them, sat down in a distant corner fronting the wall, 
and great sobs rose in her throat, and the moans of a 
bruised spirit sounded through the surprised silence. 
Consternation fell for a moment upon every one pres- 
ent; but the Fat Nurse, so careless before, divined the 
meaning of this outburst. 

“I do believe,” she said remorsefully, “that we’ve 
all been blind as bats and hard as rocks, and that that 
Baby has been a-thinkin’ and a-feelin’ more than we 


214 


BABY S NOSE IS OUT OF JOINT. 


had any idea of ! Every one of us has been a-tellin 
her that her nose is out of joint, till it has made the 
little creetur’ lonesome. We don’t give these young 
uns credit enough for knowinness. Poor little tot ! ” 

But the Young Mother had risen up in bed, and 
cried out : “ Oh, give me my Baby ! — not that one — my 
first Baby ! Don’t you see her heart is breaking ! Oh, 
bring her to me ! ” 

And the Poor Relation lifted the little desolate form 
in her gentle arms and laid her on the Young Mother’s 
bosom, where the passionately tender words and the 
soft, familiar caress soon stilled the strangling sobs and 
grief -wrung wail ; and sheltered there upon that faith- 
ful breast, Baby gained her first conception and reali- 
zation that, come weal or woe, though friends may fail 
and the world forget, or others share the sacred love, to 
the Mother’s heart no Baby’s nose is ever out of joint. 


X. 


PASSING AWAY. 

Baby was over two years old, and was no longer 
Baby ; another little one had come into her infantile 
place, and in the changes and chances of this mortal 
life Baby had come to be known by her own name — the 
beloved and blessed name of the Poor Relation. To 
the gay and gushing young girls she was no longer the 
6ole and undivided Pet ; and that One of the Aunties, 
whom she had saved for her husband, had now a baby 
of her own. Baby’s Nurse shared her care and love 
with another charge, and Baby’s Party had become a 
tale of tradition. The Crippled Sister had found the 
sweetness of living in working out her tender fancies 
on the white robes for Aunt Hannah’s Oiphan Asylum; 
and since the Sunset of Life had fallen on the humble 
home where the Aged Father and Mother had sat for 
the last time in the vine- wreathed porch, the Poor Rela 


216 


PASSING AWAY. 


tion hud keenly felt that nothing in this world is 
stationary; and that over individual and family, as 
well as through the fortunes of the Great Many, irre- 
sistible Time was forever bringing alteration and move- 
ment. But though Baby might be compensated for 
the loss of separate idolatry by the welcome compan- 
ionship of other babies, and though the woman’s 
sphere might be enlarged by more numerous duties 
and wider interests, yet perhaps in Baby’s little heart 
there might have been an undefined sense of something 
missing and gone, as in the woman’s soul there was an 
unconquerable clinging to things of the past. 

She was thinking much in this strain as she wended 
her way across the fields where she had found the five- 
leaved clover, to pay a last visit to her old home, which, 
in the course of events, was about to pass out of her 
possession ; and she was going to stand once more in 
the familiar rooms, long sanctified by sacrifice and 
suffering, to weep her full heart out alone beneath the 
roof that had sheltered her nearest and dearest, and to 
bid a sad farewell to the sacred walls, the cherished 
flowers, the precious associations of the abandoned 
abode of many years. It might be lowly in the sight 


PASSING AWAY. 


217 


of others, but no place or palace on earth could ever 
be so sweet and beautiful to her, because of the kin- 
dred lives that had been spent and finished there. 

She was thinking nothing now of five-leaved clovers 
or Fairy Gifts; her innermost spirit was all stirred 
with memories, and she was dwelling far more on 
those who had gone before to the unknown bourne, 
than of the new-born existences to which she was her- 
self, in very truth, a Fairy Godmother. Titania and 
Puck had no place in the mind that was busy with the 
angels in heaven; the Fairy Court could not enter into 
the musings on an empty hearth, and the Pose of Life 
and Lily of Death had become to her only a part of 
a lovely dream in which Fancy had played with the 
secret things of humanity. Long and solemn was the 
vigil she bad set for herself in the silent house ; very 
still and solitary would the hours of the night be in 
this dwelling of perished hopes and vanished labors; 
but she knew that the Voices of the Past would speak 
to her soul, and that she would hold communion with 
the invisible. 

The outer door, through which those she loved would 
go back and forth no more, swung back slowly aa 


213 


PASSING AWAY. 


though loth to admit her to the darkness and loneli- 
ness; the walls that would so soon resound with the 
tones of strangers gave back a faint and mournful 
echo of her lingering steps; and the very windows 
seemed to lean over and look down upon her sympa- 
thetically, as if she only was their own. Ah! what 
thoughts, what homely remembrances, what irrepress- 
ible yearnings filled those parting hours, when the 
dumb and senseless wood and plaster even seemed to 
be permeated with the personal influences that had 
emanated in their midst, and to give back the concen- 
trated impression of vanished presences. The bitter- 
ness of death was in the unseen wringings of the 
hands; the awful cry of the human in the moan 
unheard of men ; and the saltness of mortal suffering 
in the tears which fell in the deserted dwelling! 
Ghosts were there, but she had no fear of them ; the 
dead arose from their graves and came noiselessly 
about her, but she shrank not from their companion- 
ship, for to her beautiful faith they wore the wings of 
God’s Messengers, and it was not for them the rain of 
grief fell down, but for her own coming years upon 
earth below without their outward and visible inter 


PASSING AWAY. 


219 


course. For though the trained spirit may willingly 
murmur “ Thy will Be Done,” there is no reconeilia 
tion in the heart, which remains always natural, with 
sorrow and bereavement. 

She came down at last as the clock was striking mid- 
night, to stand within the vine-wreathed porch, beneath 
the starry sky, to look out once more upon the flower- 
decked lawn all bright and silvered with the summer 
moonlight. 

At the first stroke of the church-bell, to whose tolling 
of the hours she had so often listened in the night- 
watches, a rustling breeze stirred all the clustering 
leaves ; at the third stroke it suddenly seemed to her 
swimming eyes as if all the flowers on the vines ex- 
panded at once into full bloom, and turned upon their 
6tems towards the lawn ; at the fifth stroke innumera- 
ble fire-flies paled with their restless brilliancy the softer 
moonshine ; at the seventh the dewy grass and bushes 
sparkled as if sprinkled with diamonds ; at the ninth 
stroke the blossoms distilled a flood of marvellous fra- 
grance ; at the eleventh a slender white circle appeared 
instantaneously before her, flashing into her mind the 
icmembrance of the five-leaved clover; and at the 


220 


PASSING AWAY. 


twelfth stroke, there straightway before her was truly 
all the Fairy Court ! 

The Poor Relation was greatly amazed, for she had 
no chann now with which to summon the little people, 
and had often doubted whether she had once really be- 
held and talked with the tiny Queen of the Elves. Only 
when, day by day she had watched Baby growing into 
the good gifts which she fancied were bestowed upon 
her on a certain memorable night, did she sometimes 
allow herself to dwell on the belief that she, even she 
had won from the fays these blessings for the general 
darling. But the practical things of every-day exis- 
tence, crowding thick and fast, thrust down into the 
secret place of her heart the lingering childishness 
which delighted to muse on poetic visions of storied 
sprites. And she had told no one that she had held 
converse with the Fairies, for she knew that the incred- 
ulity of To-day would have impugned her sanity, and 
this same skepticism of the outer life, which is Common 
Sense, had so far stolen into her Inner Me, that until 
she beheld them all before her again she had come to 
think that her former interview was an illusion of 
rarely indulged imagination. 


PASSING AWAY. 


221 


But there they all unmistakably were once more, 
and she knew that her fancy had no part in their ap- 
pearance now, since it was of far other glorified beings 
she had been thinking, than these gossamer and airy 
creatures. And she could not but notice that this time 
they wore no guise of lightness or merriment. Titan ia, 
seated on her white rose throne, looked grave and sol- 
emn, while her silvery robe was mistier than before, and 
the crown of minute jewels upon her brow seemed dim 
and heavy. Puck drooped dejectedly, and made no sly 
passes at the quiet pages ; and over all the liliputian 
assembly there reigned an aspect of depression and dis- 
tress. 

After a moment’s silence Titan ia sadly spoke : 

“ Because, O gentle spirit ! that you were the last in 
the land who kept faith in us, we came to you before — 
we, who were once summoned to the christening feasts 
of all the princes of the world ; but since you too have 
let belief grow cold, and have permitted yourself to 
think of us as creatures of fiction, we must bid yoa 
farewell forever 1 ” 

“ All, no ! ” cried the Poor Relation, “ for now that I 
see you again my faith Hornes back, and I know you all 


222 


PASSING A WAT. 


for the veritable fairies that my childhood longed tc 
see ! ” 

“Yes,” said Titania a little scornfully, “just nowit 
is night, and you are alone, and we are here ; but to- 
morrow, in the broad day, will you dare to proclaim 
aloud in the market-place that we really do exist, and 
that you have seen us with your natural eyes, and heard 
us with your conscious ears ? ” 

And the Common Sense, which is so cruel a foe to 
Genius, and so staunch an ally to Truth, caused the 
Poor Relation to keep silent and slightly hang her head 
in shame, and the bright ring of fairies all sighed so 
piteously that she felt very culpable indeed. 

“ Ah well ! ” continued Titania, “we can pardon you, 
for the Spirit of the Age has inherited our lost power, 
and its impressions are stronger than we, since they only 
can endure the glare of the sunshine, while we are the 
children of the shadows and the Past. There is no 
place for us any longer in this country of steam and 
schools ; but as long as one heart remained that cher- 
ished us we lingered in our olden haunts. But we have 
bidden them all adieu — even as you have bidden adieu 
to your former home — with all the grief that fairies ever 


PASSING A WAT. 


223 


can feel, and now we have come to add one more 
farewell to-night to those you and we have already 
taken.” 

“Bat, O Queen ! ” exclaimed the Poor Relation, 
“ why must you go ? why must the places which have 
known you so long know you now no more ? ” 

“ Can you not understand,” replied Titania almost 
sharply, “ that when knowledge comes, the fairies 
must go? In this very house, have there not been 
gathered in the ignorant children, whose parents 
brought with them from a far country all the traditions 
of our rule, to be shown the light of science and taught 
the power of fact? When a child has pulled a flower 
to pieces in order to count the pistils and stamens, do 
you think she will ever again see a fairy peeping from 
its leaves ? Y )ur locomotives have cut through our 
meadow circles where we danced so merrily of yore ; 
your railroads have tunnelled the hills whose recesses 
were all Fairy Land, invisible to the spade and measur- 
ing-line ; and the very woods beneath whose shady 
ferns we slept so securely in the day-time, have been 
cut down for Telegraph poles, and there is no longer 
any suitable spot in this wretched land of bare actuality, 


224 


PASSING AWAY. 


work, and progress, for beings so delicate and ethereal 
as we ! ” 

And a low wail, like the dying fall of the wind at 
night, went up from the saddened Fairy Court. 

“ But where will you go, oh, where will you go ? ” 
ashed the Poor Relation ; “ for though you should 
again fade away from me as realities, your memories 
will not pass from my heart, and I would faiu picture 
you in whatsoever region you may be ! ” 

“ AVe will go,” answered Titania slowly, “ to some 
barbaric land whose people are still children; where 
the eyes have not been dulled by education, nor where 
ears have grown deaf to the voices of nature. For 
them we will dance again in the moonlight, and people 
their glens and glades ; they will see us amid the ferns, 
and find our circles in the fields ; and we will be hap- 
pier with them than we have been for a long time 
here, for with much knowledge cometh much sorrow 
to man as well as to fairies ! ” 

Then the Poor Relation stretched her arms to the 
little people. “I know,” she said, beautiful 
Queen! that you and yours will never quite go out of 
my life. I may never again see you with the eyes of 


PASSING A WAT. 


225 


my sense, but wl erever you may go my soul will sum 
mon you again and again, and you will come from the 
far away, and whisper to me of the new worlds you 
have found, pour sweet fancies into my innermost 
longings, and gather around me in the silence of sleep 
and night!” 

“ Ah ha ! ” cried Puck, “ she believes in us yet ! 
There is enough of the child left in the woman to hold 
us dear still! Must we go while one heart so clings to 
us?” 

And all the small elves echoed anxiously, u Must we 
go ? must we go ? ” 

But Titania answered mournfully, “ It i3 true that 
we can never quite forsake those who love us ; but we 
must go, alas! we must go from this civilization to 
which she belongs, if we are to live at all, for the 
March of Improvement treads down such as we, and 
advancing Reason accounts it good to look upon us 
slain ! And even she will consider that Use is better 
than Beauty, and help to train up that Baby which we 
gifted in the New Order of Things that will know us 
no more ! But because she only, for so long in the 

midst of All This, has cherished us and summoned us, 
15 


22fl 


PASS ISO AWAY. 


and will regret us, we will leave her a gift which shall 
i i main forever fresh in her heart, to which we will 
sometimes secretly return.” 

And then it seemed to the Poor Relation that all the 
Fairy Court ringed her round, floating in the mid-air; 
that they touched her with their tiny hands, and kissed 
her with their little, little mouths ; and that Titania, 
pausing a moment in front of her, left an offering lying 
on her breast. Then a cloud swept over the face of 
the moon, and when it had passed away the little 
people had all gone out of sight forever; but still upon 
the scented breeze there swelled the melancholy 
cadence of their last “ Farewell! ” And as she glanced 
downward she saw through her involuntary tears a 
single familiar flower lying on her bosom within the 
folds of her dress ; and all her life long the Poor Re- 
lation always knew that any one to whom, in the night 
of sorrow or amid the hours of care, the fairies could 
come unbidden, or who could behold a vision of Ti- 
tania, would never be entirely left alone in the. dark- 
li.ess >1 itkout this token of Heart Vease. 


THE END. 


306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, 

Desire to direct the close attention of all lovers of good novel reading to the 
works and authors contained in their new catalogue, just issued. A strict scrutiny is 
solicited, because the books enumerated in it are among the most popular now 
in existence. In supplying your wants and taste in the reading line, it is of the first 
importance that you should give special attention to what is popularly designated tn- 
t rtaining reading matter. No library is either attractive or complete without a col- 
lection of novels and romances. The experience of many years has demonstrated 
that light reading is essential to even the most studious men and women, furnishing 
the mind with healthful recreation ; while to the young, and to those that have no. 
cultivated a taste for solid works of science, it forms one of the best possible training 
schools, gradually establishing, in a pleasant manner, that habit of concentration of 
thought absolutely necessary to read understanding^ the more ponderous works, 
which treat of political economy, the sciertces, and of the arts. 

We publish and sell at very low rates, full and varied editions of the works of 
all the famous American and Foreign Novelists, whose writings are very entertain- 
ng, specially adapted for all readers. The most of them are bound in strong cloth 
binding, and also in paper covers. F.xamination is asked for our editions of the 
writings of Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth, whose romances are always in 
demand; Mrs. Ann S. Stephens, the well-known favorite; Mks. Henry Wood, 
the authoress of “ East Lynne ; ” Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, whose stories of 
Southern life stand unparalleled in their simple truth and exquisite beauty ; Mrs. C. 
A. Warfield, another very popular Southern writer; Miss Eliza A. Dupuy, who 
has made a wonderful mark ; Mrs. F. H. Burnett, the authoress of “ Theo ; " the 
charming and pathetic French and Russian romances of Henry Greville; the 
wonderful and famous fictions of Gustave F laubert ; the brilliant and artistic works 
of Octave Feuillet ; the highly finished and powerful stories of Ernest Daudet ; 
the popular and pleasing productions of Prosper Merimee; the beautiful and 
touching love tales of the celebrated George Sand ; the clever and intensely inter- 
esting writings of Jules Sandeau ; the exciting and ingenious novels of Adolphe 
Belot; the picturesque and enchaining works of Madame Angele Dussaud ; the 
exquisitely pathetic romances of the Princess Altieri ; the strong and graphic 
p-oductions of Andre Theuriet ; the wild frontier sketches of Gustave Aimard ; 
the classic and refined works of Madame De Stael ; the absorbing and vivid fic- 
tions of Alexander Dumas, Pere ; the natural and forcible novels of Alexander 
Dumas, Fils ; the startling and mysterious romances of Eugene Sue; the trenchant 
an 1 unique narratives of Victor Hugo ; the realistic novels of Emile Zola, which 
.ve had a sale in this country unparalleled in the history of recent book-making; 
G :orge W. M. Reynolds, whose romances of London life, founded on facts, ar& of 
matchless interest; Sir Walter Scott, whose “ Waverley” novels still maintain 
a strong hold on the people. Charles Dickens’ complete writings we furnish in 
every variety of style. We publish also the weird stories of George Lippard ; the 
martial novels of Charles Lever ; the comical nautical tales of Captain Marryat ; 
Emerson Bennett’s Indian stories ; Henry Cockton’s laughable narratives ; T. 
S. Arthur’s temperance tales and household stories ; the wonderful and entertain- 
ing novels of Eugene Sue and W. H. Ainsworth ; the quiet domestic novels of 
Fredrika Bremer and Ellen Pickering; the masterly novels of Wilkie Col- 
lins; Frank Fairlegh’s quaint stories, and Samuel Warren’s elaborate ro- 
mances; the works of Mrs. C. J. Newby, Mrs. Grey, and Miss Pardoe; W. H. 
H erbert’s sporting stories ; and the graphic Italian romances of T. A. Trollope ; 
also the fascinating writings of G. P. R. James, Mrs. S. A. Dorsey, Sir Edward 
Bulwer Lytton, James A. Maitland, The Shakspeare Novels, Charles G. 
Leland (Hans Breitmann), Dow’s Patent Sermons, Doesticks, and Henry 
Morford, as well as Francatelli’s, Miss Leslie’s, and all the best Cook Books; 
Petersons' “Dollar Series of Good Novels;” Petersons' “Sterling Series” of 
entertaining books ; Petersons’ popular “ Square i 2 mo. Series ” of excellent stories ; 
together with hundreds of others, by the best authors in the world. 

Look over our Catalogue, and enclose a Draft or Post Office Order for five, 
ten, twenty, or fifty dollars, or more, to us in a letter, and write for what books 
you wish, and on receipt of the money, or a satisfactory reference, the books will 
be packed and sent to you at once, in any way you may direct. Address all orders ta 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Publishers, 

306 Chestuut Street, Philadelphia. Pa* 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ NEW BOOKS. 

PETERSONS' SQUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

The following books are all printed on tinted paper , and are each issued in 
uniform style , in square 12 mo. form. Price Fifty Cents each in Paper 
Cover, or $1.00 each in Morocco Cloth, Black and Gold. 

A Russian Princess. A Russian Love Stor 3 T . By Emanuel Gonzales. 
Helen’s Babies. By John llabberton, author of ‘‘Mrs. Mayburn’s Twins. 

With an Illustrated Cover, and Portraits of “Budge” and “Toddie.” 
Mrs. Mayburn’s Twins. By John Habberton, author of “ Helen’s Babies.” 
Bertha’s Baby. Equal to “Helen’s Babies.” With an Illustrated Cove-. 
The Annals of a Baby. Naming it, eh;. By Mrs. Sarah Bridges Stebbins. 
Fanchon, the Cricket; or, La Petite Fadette. By George Sand. 

Two Ways to Matrimony; or, Is it Love? or, False Pride. 

The Matchmaker. By Beatrice Reynolds. A Charming Love Story. 
Bessie’s Six Lovers. A Charming Love Story. By Henry Peterson. 

The Story of Elizabeth. By Miss Thackeray, daughter of W. M. Thackeray. 
The Amours of Philippe; or, Philippe’s Love Affairs, by Octave Feuillet. 
Sybil Brothcrton. A Novel. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The History of a Parisienne. Octave Feuillet’s new and greatest work. 
Iiancy Cottem’s Courtship. By author of “ Major Jones’s Courtship.” 
Father Tom and the Pope; or. A Night at the Vatican. Illustrated. 

A Woman’s Mistake; or, Jacques de Trevannes. A Charming Love Story. 
The Days of Madame Pompadour. By Gabrielle De St. Andre. 
Madeleine. A Charming Love Story. Jules Sandeau’s Prize Novel. 
Carmen. By Prosper Meritnee. Book the Opera was dramatized from. 
The Little Countess. By Octave Feuillet, author of “ Count De Camors.” 
The Red Hill Tragedy. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 

The American L'Assommoir. A parody on Zola’s “ L’Assommoir.” 

Hyde Park Sketches. A very humorous and entertaining work. 

Miss Margery’s Roses. A Charming Love Story. By Robert C. Meyers. 
Madame Pompadour’s Garter. A Romance of the Reign of Louis XV. 
That Girl of Mine. By the author of “ That Lover of Mine.” 

That Lover of Mine. By the author of ‘‘That Girl of Mine.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or §1.00 each in cloth. 

PETERSONS’ SaUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

A Woman’s Perils; or, Driven from Home. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Fascinating Woman. By Madame Edmond Adam. 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
La Faustin. By Edmond de Goncourt. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Monsieur Le Ministrc. By Jules Claretie. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
A Child of Israel. By Edouard Cadol. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Winning the Battle; or, One Girl in 10,000. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Fatal Marriage. By Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth. Paper, 75 cents. 
Indiana! A Love Story. By George Sand. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
The Initials. A. Z. By Baroness Tautphoeus. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
The Bridal Eve; or, Rose Elmer. By Mrs. Southworth. Paper, 75 c^nts. 
Vidncq ! The French Detective. Illustrated. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Camille; or, The Fate of a Coquette. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Monsieur, Madame, and the Baby. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Exiles. The Russiau ‘ Robinson Crusoe.’ Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 


1^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. (B) 


T. B. PETERSON m BROTHERS’ NEW BOOKS. 


PETERSONS’ SQUARE 12mo. SERIES. 

Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1 CO, 
Major Jones’s Georgia.Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Major Jones’s Travels. S Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
"Simon Suggs’ Adventures. 10 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
Louisiana Swamp Doctor. 6 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
My Hero. A Love Story. By Mrs. Forrester. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.00. 
P «ul Ilart. ; or, The L'ive of His Life. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Mildred’s Cadet; or, Hearts and Bell- Buttons. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Bellah. A Love Story. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Sabine’s Falsehood. A Love Story. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Linda; or, The Young Pilotof the Belle Creole. Paper, 75 cts., cloth, $1.25. 
The Woman in Black. Illustrated Cover. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
Madame Bovary. By Gustave Flaubert. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Count de Camors. By Octave Feuillet. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
How She Won Him ! A Love Story. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
Angele’s Fortune. By Andre Theuriet. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 
St. Maur; or, An Earl’s Wooing. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.25. 

The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00, 
The Black Venus. By Adolphe Belot. Paper cover, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
La Grande Florine. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 
The Stranglers of Paris. By Adolphe Belot. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, $1.00. 

MRS. BURNETT’S LOVE STORIES. 

Kathleen. A Love Story. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. 

Theo. A Love Story. By author of “ Kathleen,” “ Miss Crespigny,” etc. 
Pretty Polly Pemberton. By author of “ Kathleen,” “Theo.” etc. 

A Quiet Life. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett, author of “Theo.” 
Miss Crespigny. A Charming Love Story. By author of “Kathleen.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 
Jarl’s Daughter and Other Tales. By Mrs. Burnett. Price 25 cents. 
Lindsay’s Luck. By Mrs. Frances Hodgson Burnett. Price 25 cents. 

NEW AND GOOD WORKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

The Queen of the Kitchen. Containing over One Thousand “Southern 
Receipts” in Practical Cookery. By Miss Tyson. Cloth, price $1.75. 

A Heart Twice Won; or, Second Love. A Love Story. By Mrs. Eliza- 
beth Van Loon. Morocco cloth, black and gold. Price $1.50. 

The Mystery of Allanwold. A Thrilling Novel. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon , author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
Under the Willows; or, The Three Countesses. By Mrs. Elizabeth Van 
Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth, and gold. Price $1.50. 
The Shadow of Hampton Mead. A Charming Story. By Mrs. Elizabeth 
Van Loon, author of “A Heart Twice Won.” Cloth. Price $1.50. 
Francatelli’s Modern Cook Book. With the most approved method.' of 
French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty-two Illus- 
trations. One volume, 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, $5.00. 

The Prince of Breffny. Morocco cloth, black and gold, price $1.50. 
Ctiarles Dickens’ Works. Various Editions, from $20 to $45 a set. 


70 ?* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. (C> 


T. B. PETERSON « N » BROTHERS’ NEW BOOKS. 


EMILE ZOLA’S NEW REALISTIC WORKS. 

Pct-Bouille. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” “ Pot-Bouille.” Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

Nana ! Sequel to L’Assoimnoir. By Emile Zola. Nana ! Price 75 cents 
in paper cover, or $1.00 in morocco cloth, black and gold. Nana ! 
L’Assotninoir ; or, Nana’s Mother. By Emile Zola. The Greatest Novel 
ever printed. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth. 

Nana’s Daughter. A Continuation of and Sequel to Emile Zola’s Great 
Realistic Novel of “Nana.” Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.00 in < h> f h. 
The Mysteries of the Court of Louis Napoleon. By Emile Zola. Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

The Mysteries of Marseilles. By Emile Zola, author of “ Nana.” Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

Albine ; or, The Abbe’s Temptation. (La Fante Dc L* Abbe Monret.) By 
Emile Zola. Price 75 cents in paper, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 
Helene, a Love Episode; or, (Jne Pnye D’ Amour. By Emile Zola. 

Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and go'd. 
Magdalen Ferat. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” and “L’Assoiu- 
inoir.” Price 75 cents in p iper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gol'L 
Therese Raquin. By Emile Zola, author of “Nana,” “ L’AsS"tninoir. ’ 
etc. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.00 in cloth, black and gold. 
The Rougon-Macquart Family ; or, Miette. (La Fortune Des Jlouyon.) 

By Emile Zola. Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth. 

The Markets of Paris; or, Le Ventre de Baris. By Emile Zola. Price 
75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in morocco cloth, black and gold. 

The Conquest of Plassans; or. La Conquete de Plassans. By Emile Zola. 
Price 75 cents in paper cover, or $1.25 in cloth, black and gold. 

HENRY CREVILLE’S CHARMING NOVELS. 

Tania’s Peril. A Russian Love Story. By Henry Grevilie. 

Saveli’s Expiation. A Powerful Novel. By Henry Grevilie. 

Sonia. A Love Story. By Henry Grevilie, author of “ Dosia.” 

Lucie Rodey. A Charming Society Novel. By Henry Gieville. 
Bonne-Marie. A Tale of Normandy and Paris. By Henry Gr6' ille. 
Xenie’s Inheritance. A Tale cf Ru.-sian Life. By Henry Grevilie. 
Dournof. A Russian Story. By Henry Grevilie, author of “Dosia.” 
Gabrielle; or, The House of Maureze. By Henry Grevilie. 

A Friend; or, “ L’Atui.” By Henry Grevilie, author of “Dosia.” 

Above are in paper cover, price 50 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.00 each. 

Dosia. A Russian Story. By Henry GrgciHe, author of “ Markof.” 

The Trials of Raissa. By Henry Grevilie, author of “ Dosia.” 

The Princess Ogherof. A Love Story. By Henry Grevilie. 

P&iloraene’s Marriages. A Love Story. By Henry Grevilie. 

Pretty Little Countess Zina. By Henry Grerille, author of “Dosia.” 
Marrying Off a Daughter. A Love Story. By Henry Grevilie. 

Above are in paper cover, price 75 cents each, or in cloth, at $1.25 each. 

Markof, the Russian Violinist. A Russian Story. By Henry Gr§vil_e. 
One large volume, 12mo., cloth, price $1.50, or paper cover, 75 cents. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. (A) 


T. B. PETERSON and BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


Orders solicited from Booksellers, Librarians, Canvassers, News 
Agents, and all others in want of good and fast-selling 
books, which will be supplied at very Low Prices. 


MRS. E. D. E. N. SOUTIiWORTH’S FAMOUS WORKS. 

Complete in forty-three large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, 
price $1.75 each; or $75.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Ishraael; or, In the Depths, being Self-Made; or, Out of Depths.... $1 75 
Self Raised; or, From the Depths. Sequel to “ Ishmael.” 1 75 


Ttie Mother-in-Law, $L 75 

Tite Fatal Secret 1 75 

How lie Won Her, 1 75 

Fair Flay, 1 75 

The Spectre Lover, 1 75 

Victor’s Triumph, 1 75 


The Deserted Wife, 1 75 

The Fortune Seeker, 1 75 

The Bridal Eve, 1 75 

The Lost Heiress, 1 75 

The Two Sisters, 1 75 

Lady of the Isle, 1 75 


A Beautiful Fiend, 1 75 'Prince of Darkness, 1 75 

The Artist’s Love, 1 75 1 The Three Beauties, 1 75 

A Noble Lord, 1 75 Vivia; or the Secret of Power, 1 75 

Lost Heir of Linlithgow, 1 75 Love’s Labor Won, 1 75 

Tried for her Life, 1 75 The Gipsy’s Prophecy, 1 75 


Retribution, 1 75 

The Chr.istmas Guest, 1 75 

Haunted Homestead, 1 75 

Wife’s Victory, 1 75 

Allworth Abbey, 1 75 

India ; Pearl of Pearl River,.. 1 75 

Curse of Clifton, 1 75 

Discarded Daughter, 1 75 

The Mystery of Dark Hollow,.. 1 75 

Avenger, 1 75 

The Phantom Wedding; or, The Fall of the House of Flint, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Self-Made; or, Out of the Depths. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. 
Complete in two volumes, cloth, price $1.75 each, or $3.50 a set. 


Cruel as the Grave, 1 75 

The Maiden Widow, 1 75 

The Family Doom, 1 75 

The Bride’s Fate, 1 75 

The Changed Brides, 1 75 

Fallen Pride, 1 75 

The Widow’s Son, 1 75 

The Bride of Llewellyn, 1 75 

The Fatal Marriage, 1 75 

The Missing Bride; or, Miriam, the 


MBS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ’S WORKS. 


Complete in twelve large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back * 
price $1.75 each ; or $21.00 a set , each set is put up in a neat box. 


Ernest Linwood, 

.$1 

75 

Love after Marriage, 

...$1 75 

The Planter’s Northern Bride,. 

. 1 

75 

Eoline; or Magnolia Vale,.. 

... 1 

75 

Courtship and Marriage, 

1 

75 

The Lost Daughter, 

... 1 

75 

Rena; or, the Snow Bird, 

1 

75 

The Banished Son, 

... 1 

75 

Marcus Warland 

1 

75 

Helen and Arthur, 

... 1 

75 

Linda ; or, the Young Pilot of the Belle Creole, 

1 

75 


Robert Graham; the Sequel to “ Linda; or Pilot of Belle Creole,”... 1 75 
Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pries, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa, (1) 


2 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS’ WORKS. 

Oomphtc in twenty-three large duodecimo volumes , bound in morocco cloth , gilt back, 
price 51.75 each ; or $ 40.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


Norston’s Rest, $1 75 

Bertha’s Engagement, 1 75 

Bcllehood and Bondage, 1 75 

The Old Countess, 1 75 

Lord Hope’s Choice, 1 75 

The Reigning Belle, 1 75 

Palaces and Prisons, 1 75 

Married in Haste, 1 75 

Wi ves and Widows, 1 75 

Ruby Gray’s Strategy, 1 75 


The Soldiers’ Orphans, $1 7£ 

A Noble Woman, 1 75 

Silent Struggles, 1 75 

The Rejected Wife, 1 75 

The Wife’s Secret,....* 1 75 

Mary Derwent, 1 75 

Fashion and Famine, 1 75 

The Curse of Gold, 1 75 

Mabel’s Mistake, 1 75 

The Old Homestead, 1 75 


Doubly False, 1 75 | The Heiress, 1 75 | The Gold Brick,... 1 76 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

MISS ELIZA A. DUPUY’S WORKS. 

Complete in fourteen large duodecimo volumes, bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, pries 
$ 1.75 each ; or $ 24.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 


A New Way to Win a Fortune $1 75 

The Discarded Wife, I 75 

The Clandestine Marriage, 1 75 

The Hidden Sin, 1 75 

The Dethroned Heiress, 1 75 

The Gipsy’s "Warning, 1 75 

All For Love, 1 75 


Why Did He Marry Her ? $1 75 

Who Shall be Victor ? 1 75 

The Mysterious Guest, 1 75 

Was He Guilty? 1 75 

The Cancelled Will, 1 75 

The Planter's Daughter, 1 75 

Michael Rudolph, 1 75 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

LIST OF THE BEST COOK BOOKS PUBLISHED. 

Every housekeeper should possess at least one of the following Cook Books, as they 
would save the price of it in a week's cooking. 

Miss Leslie’s Cook Book, a Complete Manual to Domestic Cookery 

in all its Branches. Paper cover, $1.00, or bound in cloth, $1 50 

The Queen of the Kitchen; or, The Southern Cook Book. Con- 
taining 1007 Old Southern Family Receipts for Cooking,...Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Hale’s New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Petersons’ New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Widdifield's New Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Mrs. Goodfollow’s Cookery as it Should Be, Cloth, 1 75 

The National Cook Book. By a Practical Housewife, Cloth, 1 75 

The Young Wife’s Cook Book, Cloth, 1 75 

Miss Leslie’s New Receipts for Cooking, Cloth, .1 75 

Mrs. Hale’s Receipts for the Million, Cloth, 1 75 

The Family Save-All. By author of “National Cook Book,” Cloth, 1 75 

Francatelli's Modern Cook Book. With the most approved methods 
of French, English, German, and Italian Cookery. With Sixty- 
two Illustrations. One vol., 600 pages, bound in morocco cloth, 5 00 


$3“ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prioe, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. S 


MRS. C. A. WARFIELD’S WORKS. 

Complete in nine large duodecimo volumes , bound in morocco cloth, gilt back, price 
$ 1.75 each ; or $ 15.75 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Cardinal's Daughter,.. $1 75 Miriam’s Memoirs, $1 75 

Feme Fleming, 1 75 Monfort Hall, 1 75 

The Household of Bouverie,.... 1 75 Sea and Shore 1 75 

A Double Wedding, 1 75 Hester Howard’s Temptation,... 1 75 

Lady Ernestine; or, The Absent Lord of Rocheforte, 1 75 

FREDRIKA BREMER’S DOMESTIC NOVELS. 

Cbmplete in six large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 each; 
or $ 10.50 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Father and Daughter, $1 75 | The Neighbors, $1 75 

The Four Sisters, 1 75 I The Home, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
Life in the Old World. In two volumes, cloth, price, 3 50 


ft. K. PHILANDER DOESTICKS’ WORKS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in clolh, gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Doesticks* Letters, $1 75 I The Elephant Club, $1 75 

Plu-Ri-Bus-Tah, 1 75 | Witches of New York, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


JAMES A. MAITLAND’S WORKS. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth , gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 12.25 a set, eacfy set is put up in a neat box. 

Diary of an Old Doctor, $1 75 

Sartaroe, 1 75 

The Three Cousins, 1 75 


The Watchman, $1 75 

The Wanderer, 1 75 

The Lawyer's Story, 1 75 


The Old Patroon ; or the Great Van Broek Property, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE’S NOVELS. 

Cbmplete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $ 1.75 
each ; or $ 12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Sealed Packet, $1 75 j Dream Numbers, $1 75 

Garstang Grange, 1 75 I Beppo, the Conscript, 1 75 

Leonora Casaloni,... 1 75 | Gemma, 1 75 | Marietta, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

FRANK FORESTER’S SPORTING SCENES. 

Prank Forester’s Sporting Scenes and Characters. By Henry William 
Herbert. A New, Revised, and Enlarged Edition, with a Life of the 
Author, a New Introductory Chapter, Frank Forester’s Portrait and 
Autograph, wiih a full length picture of him in his shooting costume, 
and seventeen other illustrations, from original designs by Darley and 
Frank Forester. Two vols., morocco cloth, bevelled boards, $4.00. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prioe, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


4 X. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WILKIE COLLINS’ BEST WORKS. 

Basil; or, The Crossed Path..$l 50 | The Dead Secret. 12ino $1 50 

Abovo are each in one large duodecimo volume, bound in cloth. 

The Dead Secret, 8vo 75 The Queen’s Revenge, 75 


Basil; or, the Crossed Path, 75 

Hide and Seek, 75 

After Dark, 75 


Miss or Mrs? 50 

Mad Monkton, 50 

Sights a-Foot, 50 


The Stolen Mask, 25 | The Yellow Mask,... 25 | Sister Rose,... 25 

The above books are each issued in paper cover, in octavo form. 

EMERSON BENNETT’S INDIAN STORIES. 

Complete in seven large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth , gilt back, price $1.75 
each ; or $12.25 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

The Border Rover, Si 75 Bride of the Wilderness, Si 75 

Clara Moreland 1 75 Ellen Norbury, 1 75 

"he Orphan’s Trials, I 75 Kate Clarendon, 1 75 

Viola ; or Adventures in the Far South-West, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Heiress of Bellefonte, 75 | The Pioneer’s Daughter, 75 


GREEN’S WORKS ON GAMBLING. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price $1.7 a 
each; or $7.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Gambling Exposed, $1 75 i The Reformed Gambler, $1 75 

The Gambler’s Life, 1 75 j Secret Band of Brothers, 1 75 

Above are each in cloth> or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


DOW’S PATENT SERMONS. 

Complete in four large duodecimo volumes, bound in cloth, gilt back, price 
each ; or $6.00 a set, each set is put up in a neat box. 

Dow’s Patent Sermons; 1st j Dow’s Patent Sermons, 3d 


$1.50 


Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermons, 2d 
Series, cloth, 1 50 


Series, cloth, $1 50 

Dow’s Patent Sermous, 4th 
Series, cloth, 1 50 


Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.00 each. 

GEORGE SAND’S GREATEST WORKS. 


Consuclo, 12mo., cloth, $1 50 | Jealousy, 1 2tno., cloth, $1 50 

Countess of lludolstadt, 1 50 | Indiana, 12mo., cloth, 1 50 

Above are each published in 12mo., cloth, gilt side and back. 
Fanchon, the Cricket, paper cover, 50 cents, or fine edition, in cloth, 1 50 
First and True Love. With 1 1 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents ; cloth, 1 00 

Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 | The Corsair, 50 

Simon. A Love Story, 50 1 The Last Aldini, 50 

The Countess of Rudolstadt. The Sequel to Consuelo. Paper cover, 75 


MISS BRADD 


Aurora Floyd, 75 

Aurora Floyd, cloth 1 00 


ON’S WORKS. 

The Lawyer’s Secret,... 
For Better, For Worse,. 


25 

75 


^3^ Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on Receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 5 


PETERSONS’ “ DOLLAR SERIES.” 

Petersons' “ Dollar Series ” of Good Novels are. the cheapest books at One Dollar each 
ever published. They are all issued in uniform style, in 1 2mo. form, and art 
bound in red, blue and tan vellum, with gold and black sides and back, and are sold 
at the low price of One Dollar each, while they are as large as any books published 
at SI .75 and $2.00 each. The following have already been issued in this series: 
Lady Edith; or, Alton Towers. A very charming :ind fascinating wo rk. 
Myrtle Lawn ; or, True Love Never Did Run Smooth. A Love Story. 

A. Woman’s Thoughts About Women. By Miss Mulock. 

Two Ways to Matrimony; or, Is It Love, or, False Pride? 

The Story of “ Elizabeth.” By Miss Thackeray. 

Flirtations in Fashionable Life. By Catharine Sinclair. 

The Matchmaker. A Society Novel. By Beatrice Reynolds. 

Rose Douglas, the Bonnie Scotch Lass. A Companion to “ Family Pride.” 
The Earl’s Secret. A Charming Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 

Family Secrets. A Companion to “Family Pride,” and very fascinating. 
The Macdermots of Ballycloran. An Exciting Novel, by A. Trollope. 

The Family Save-All. With Economical Receipts for the Household. 
Self-Sacrifice. A Charming Work. By author of “Margaret Maitland.” 
The Pride of Life. A Love Story. By Lady Jane Scott. 

The Rival Belles; or, Life in Washington. Author “ Wild Western Scenes.” 
The ClyfFards of Clyffe. By James Payn, author “ Lost Sir Massingberd.” 
The Orphan’s Trials; or, Alone in a Great City. By Emerson Bennett. 
The Heiress of Sweetwater. A Love Storj r , abounding with exciting scenes. 
The Refugee. A delightful book, full of food for laughter, and information. 
Lost Sir Massingberd. A Love Story. By author of “ Clyffards of Clyffe.” 
Cora Belmont; or, The Sincere Lover. A True Story of the Heart. 

The Lover’s Trials ; or, The Days Before the Revolution. By Mrs. Denison. 
My Son’s Wife. A strong, bright, interesting and charming Novel. 

Aunt Patty's Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, author of “ Rena.” 
Saratoga! and the Famous Springs. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. 
Country Quarters. A Charming Love Story. By Countess of Blessington. 
Self-Love. A Book for Young Ladies, with prospects in Life contrasted. 
The Devoted Bride; or, Faith and Fidelity. A Love Story. 

Colley Cibber’s Life of Edwin Forrest, with Reminiscences of the Actor. 
Out of the Depths. The Story of a Woman’s Life, and a Woman’s Book. 
The Queen’s Favorite ; or, The Price of aCrown. A Romance of Don Juan, 
Six Nights with the Washingtonians. By T. S. Arthur. Illustrated. 

The Coquette; or, the Life and Letters of the beautiful Eliza Wharton. 
Harem Life in Egypt and Constantinople. By Emmeline Lott. 

The Old Patroon; or, The Great Van Broek Property, by J. A. Maitland. 
Nana. By Emile Zola. Gambling Exposed. ByJ.H. Green, 

L’Assoinmoir. By Emile Zola. Woodburn Grange. By W. Howitt. 

3) -earn Numbers. By Trollope. The Cavalier. By G. P. R. James. 

A Lonely Life. Across the Atlantic. 

The Beautiful Widow. Shoulder-Straps. By II. Morford. 

Love and Duty. By Mrs. Hubback. The Brothers’ Secret. 

The Heiress in the Family. The Rector’s Wife. 

Woman’s Wrong. A Woman’s Book. The Man of the World, 


■fig ?* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt cf Retail Price, 
bY T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


6 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


PETERSONS’ “STERLING SERIES.” 

,( Petersons* Sterling Series ” of New and Good Books are the Cheapest Novels 
in the world. They are all issued in uniform style, in octavo form, price 
One Dollar each, bound in morocco cloth, black and gold ; or 75 cents each 
in paper cover, with the edges cut open all around. The following 
celebrated works have already been issued in this series : 

Corinne; or, Italy. By Madame De Stael. This is a Wonderful Book. 
The Man in Black; or the Days of Queen Anne. By 6. P. R. James. 
Edina; or, Missing Since Midnight; A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 
Cyrilla. A Love Story. By the author of “ The Initials.” 

Popping the Question; or, Belle of the Ball. By author of ‘‘The Jilt.” 
Marrying for Money. A Charming Love Story in Real Life. 

Aurora Floyd. An Absorbing Love Story. By Miss M. E. Braddon. 
Salathiel; or, The Wandering Jew. By Rev. George Croly. 

Harry Lorrequer. Full of Fun, Frolic and Adventure. By Charles Lever. 
Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. Charles Lever’s Greatest Novel. 

The Flirt. A Fashionable Novel. By author of “ The Gambler’s Wife.” 
The Dead Secret. Wilkie Collins’ Greatest Work. 

Thackeray’s Irish Sketch Book, with Thirty-eight Illustrations. 

The Wife’s Trials. Dramatic and Powerful. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

The Man With Five Wives. By Alexander Dumas, author of “ Camille.” 
Pickwick Abroad. Illustrated by Cruikshank. By G. W. M. Reynolds. 
First and True Love. Beautifully rich in style. By George Sand. 

The Mystery; or, Anne Hereford. A Love Story. By Mrs. Henry Wood. 
The Steward. Illustrated. By the author of “ Valentine Vox.” 

Basil: or, The Crossed Path. By Wilkie Collins. Told with great power. 
The Jealous Wife. Great originality of plot. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 
Sylvester Sound. By the author of “ Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist.” 
Whitefriars; or, The Days of Charles the Second. Equal to “ Ivanboe.” 
Webster and Hayne’s Speeches on Foot’s Resolution & Slavery Compromise. 
The Rival Beauties. A Beautiful Love Story. By Miss Pardoe. 

The Confessions of a Pretty Woman. By Miss Julia Pardoe. 

Flirtations in America; or, High Life in New York. 

The Coquette. A Powerful and Amusing Tale of Love and Pride. 

The Latimer Family. T. S. Arthur’s Great Temperance Story, illustrated. 

Above books are $1.00 each in cloth, or 75 cents each in paper cover. 
The Creole Beauty. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents. 

Agnes Graham. By Mrs. Sarah A. Dorsey. Price Fifty cents. 

HENRY MORFORD'S AMERICAN NOVELS. 

Shoulder-Straps, $1 75 I The Days of Shoddy. A His- 

The Coward, 1 75 I tory of the late War, $1 75 

Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, price $1.50 each. 

THE SHAKSPEARE NOVELS. 

Shakspeare and his Friends, ...$1 00 1 The Secret Passion, $1 00 

The Youth of Shakspeare, 1 00 I 

Above three Books are also bound in morocco cloth. Price $1.25 each. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prise, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


f. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


t 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. ILLUSTRATED. 

This edition ia printed from large type , octavo size, each book being complete 
in one large octavo volume, bound in Morocco Cloth, with Gilt Character 
Figures on back, and Medallion on side, price $1.50 each, or $27.00 a set. 
contained in eighteen volumes, the whole containing near Six Hundred 
Illustrations, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Mac Use, and other artists. 
The Pickwick Papers. By Charles Dickens. With 32 Illustrations, .$1.50 
Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles Dickens. With 37 Illustrations,.... 1 50 

David Copperfield. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, 1 50 

Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens. With 24 Illustrations, 1 50 

Bleak House. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Dombey and Son. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Sketches by “ Boz.” By Charles Dickens. With 20 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Little Dorrit. By Charles Dickens. With 38 Illustrations, 1 50 

Our Mutual Friend. By Charles Dickens. With 42 Illustrations.... 1 50 
Great Expectations. By Charles Dickens. With 34 Illustrations,... 1 50 
Lamplighter’s Story. By Charles Dickens. With 7 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Barnaby Rudge. By Charles Dickens. With 50 Illustrations, 1 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit. By Charles Dickens. With 8 Illustrations, 1 50 

Old Curiosity Shop. By Charles Dickens. With 101 Illustrations,. 1 50 

Christmas Stories. By Charles Dickens. With 12 Illustrations, 1 50 

Dickens’ New Stories. By Charles Dickens. With portrait of author, 1 50 
A Tale of Two Cities. By Charles Dickens. With 64 Illustrations,. 1 50 
Charles Dickens’s American Notes and Pic-Nic Papers, 1 50 

WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volume , 
bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is inpaper cover , at $1.50 each. 

The Initials. A Love Story. By Baroness Tautpboeus, $1 75 

Married Beneath Him. By author of “ Lost Sir Massingberd,” 1 75 

Margaret Maitland. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “Zaidee,” 1 75 

Family Pride. By author of “ Pique,” “ Family Secrets,” etc 1 75 

The Autobiography of Edward Wortley Montagu, 1 75 

The Forsaken Daughter. A Companion to “Linda,” 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A Revolutionary Story. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

The Morrisons. By Mrs. Margaret Hostncr, 1 75 

The Rich Husband. By author of “ George Geith,” 1 75 

The Lost Beauty. By a Noted Lady of the Spanish Court, 1 75 

My Hero. By Mrs. Forrester. A Charming Love Story, 1 75 

The Quaker Soldier. A Revolutionary Romance. By Judge Jones,.... 1 75 
Memoirs of Vidocq, the French Detective. His Life and Adventures, 1 75 
The Belle of Washington. With her Portrait. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
High Life in Washington. A Life Picture. By Mrs. N. P. Lasselle, 1 75 
Courtship and Matrimony. By Robert Morris. With a Portrait,... 1 50 

The Jealous Husband. By Annette Marie Maillard, 1 75 

The Conscript; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dumas,.... 1 75 
Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of “The Gambler’s Wife,” etc. 1 75 
Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 


Aboya Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pric* 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


8 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover at $1.50 each. 
The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Dumas. Illustrated, paper $I.00,..$1 75 
The Countess of Monte-Cristo. ?aper cover, price $1.00 ; or cloth,.. 1 75 

Camille; or, the Fate of a Coquette. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

Love and Money. By J. B. Jones, author of the “ Rival Belles,”... 1 75 
The Brother’s Secret ; or, the Count De Mara. By William Godwin. 1 75 
The Lost Love. By Mrs. Oliphant, author of “ Margaret Maitland,” 1 75 
The Roman Traitor. By Henry William Herbert.. A Roman Story, 1 75 


The Last Athenian. By Victor Rydberg. From the Swedish, 1 75 

The Bohemians of London. By Edward M. Whitty, 1 75 

Wild Sports and Adventures in Africa. By Major W. C. Harris, 1 75 

The Life, Writings, and Lectures of the late “ Fanny Fern,” 1 75 

The Life and Lectures of Lola Montez, with her portrait, 1 75 

Wild Southern Scenes. By author of “ Wild Western Scenes,” 1 75 

Currer Lyle ; or, the Autobiography of an Actress. By Louise Reeder. 1 75 

The Cabin and Parlor. By J. Thornton Randolph. Illustrated, 1 75 

The Little Beauty. A Love Story. By Mrs. Grey, 1 75 

Lizzie Glenn; or, the Trials of a Seamstress. By T. S. Arthur 1 75 

Lady Maud ; or, the Wonder of Kingswood Chase. By Pierce Egan, 1 75 

Wilfred Montressor ; or, High Life in New York. Illustrated, 1 75 

Lorrimer Littlegood, by author “ Harry Coverdale’s Courtship,” 1 75 

Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 1 75 

Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of “ Days of Shoddy,” 1 75 
Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 
The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of “ Shoulder Straps,” 1 75 


Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1 .50 each. 

MRS. HENRY WOOD’S BEST BOOKS, IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of Mrs. Henry Wood’s best books, and they 

are each issued in large octavo volumes, bound in cloth, price $1.75 each. 
Within the Maze. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,” $1 75 

The Master of Greylands. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 

Dene Hollow. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Wirhin the Maze,” 1 75 
Bessy Rane. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ The Channings,”.... 1 75 
George Canterbury’s Will. By Mrs. Wood, author “Oswald Cray,” 1 75 
The Channings. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Dene Hollow,”... 1 75 

Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Channings.” By Mrs. Wood 1 75 

Shadow of Ashlydyatt. By Mrs. Wood, author of “ Bessy Rane,”.... 1 75 
Lord Oakburn’s Daughters; or The Earl’s Heirs. By Mrs. Wood,... 1 75 
Verner’s Pride. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ The Channings,” 1 75 
The Castle’s Heir; or Lady Adelaide’s Oath. By Mrs. Henry Wood, 1 75 
Oswald Cray. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Rolaud Yorke,”.... 1 75 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir; or Trevlyn Hold. By Mrs. Henry Wood 1 75 

The Red Court Farm. By Mrs. Wood, author of “Verner’s Pride,” 1 75 

Elster’s Folly. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “ Castle’s Heir,”... 1 75 

St. Martin’s Eve. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “Dene Hollow,” 1 75 
Mildred Arkell. By Mrs. Henry Wood, author of “East Lynne,” 1 75 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 9 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WORKS, BOUND IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of Alexander Damns' works, and they art 
each issued in large octavo volumes, bound in cloth, price $ 1.75 each. 
The Three Guardsmen ; or. The Three Mousquetaires. By A. Dumas, $1 75 
Twenty Years After; or the “ Second Series of Three Guardsmen," ... 1 75 
Bragelonne ; S<»n of Athos ; or “ Third Series of Three Guardsmen," 1 75 
The Iron Mask ; or the “ Fourth Series of The Three Guardsmen,".... 1 75 
Louise La Valliere; or the “ Fifth Series and End of the Three 

Guardsmen Series,” 1 75 

The Memoirs of a Physician ; or, Joseph Balsamo. Illustrated, 1 75 

Queen’s Necklace; or “ Second Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75 
Six Years Later; or the “ Third Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
Countess of Charny ; or “ Fourth Series of Memoirs of a Physician," 1 75 
Andree De Taverney ; or “ Fifth Series of Memoirs of a Physician,” 1 75 
The Chevalier; or the “ Sixth Series and End of the Memoirs of a 

Physician Series,” 1 75 

The Adventures of a Marquis. By Alexander Dumas, I 75 

The Count of Monte-Cristo. By Alexander Dumas, 1 75 

Edmond Dantes. A Sequel to the “ Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 

The Countess of Monte-Cristo. A Companion to “ Monte-Cristo,”.... 1 75 
The Forty- Five Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas. Illustrated,... 1 75 
Diana of Meridor, or Lady of Monsoreau. By Alexander Dumas,... 1 75 
The Iron Hand. By Alex. Dumas, author ‘‘Count of Monte-Cristo,” 1 75 

Camille; or the Fate of a Coquette. (La Dame aux Camelias,) 1 75 

The Conscript. A novel of the Days of Napoleon the First, 1 75 

Love and Liberty. A novel of the French Revolution of 1792-1792, 1 75 

GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ WORKS, IN CLOTH. 

The following are cloth editions of G. W. M. Reynolds’ works, and they are 
each issued in large octavo volumes, bound in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

The Mysteries of the Court of London. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Rose Foster; or the “ Second Series of Mysteries of Court of London," 1 75 
Caroline of Brunswick; or the “ Third Series of the Court of London," 1 75 
Venetia Trelawney; or “ End of the Mysteries of the Court of London," 1 75 

Lord Saxondale; or the Court of Queen Victoria. By Reynolds, 1 75 

Count Christoval. Sequel to “ Lord Saxondale.” By Reynolds, 1 75 

Rosa Lambert; or Memoirs of an Unfortunate Woman. By Reynolds, 1 75 
Mary Price; or the Adventures of a Servant Maid. By Reynolds,... 1 75 
Eustace Quentin. Sequel to “ Mary Price.” By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 
Joseph Wilmot; or the Memoirs of a Man Servant. By Reynolds,... 1 75 
The Banker’s Daughter. Sequel to “ Joseph Wilmot.” By Reynolds, 1 75 
Kenneth. A Romance of the Highlands. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Rye-House Plot; or the Conspirator’s Daughter. By Reynolds I 7S 

Necromancer; or the Times of Henry the Eighth. By Reynolds,.... 1 7S 

The Mysteries of the Court of Naples. Bv G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Wallace; the Hero of Scotland. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

The Gipsy Chief. By George W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Robert Bruce; the Hero King of Scotland. By G. W. M. Reynolds, 1 75 

Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


10 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 

The following books are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in 
cloth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done up in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 

The Wandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, $2 00 

Mysteries of Paris; and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue,.... 2 00 

Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 2 00 

Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 2 00 

Washington and His Generals. By George Lippard,.. 2 00 

The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Blanche of Brandywine. By George Lippard, 2 00 

Paul Ardenheim ; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
The Mysteries of Florence. By Geo. Lippard, author “ Quaker City,” 2 00 
The Pictorial Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth, 2 50 

The following are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in cloth, price $2.0$ 
each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at 75 cents each. 

Charles O’Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth, $2 00 

Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever,. ..Cloth, 2 00 

Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Davenport Dunn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever, ...Cloth, 2 00 

Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever Cloth, 2 00 

The Knight of Gwynne. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Arthur O’Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Kate O'Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 

Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 

HUMOROUS ILLUSTRATED WORKS. 

Each one is full of Illustrations, by Felix O. C. Darley, and bound in Cloth. 
Major Jones’ Courtship and Travels. In one vol., 29 Illustrations, .$1 75 

Major Jones’ Scenes in Georgia. With 16 Illustrations, 1 50 

Swamp Doctor’s Adventures in the South-West. 14 Illustrations,... 1 50 

Col. Thorpe's Scenes in Arkansaw. With 16 Illustrations, 1 50 

High Life in New York, by Jonathan Slick. With Illustrations,.... 1 50 

Piney Wood’s Tavern; or, Sam Slick in Texas. Illustrated, 1 5ft 

II uinors of Falconbridge. By J. F. Kelley. With Illustrations, ... 1 50 

Simon Suggs’ Adventures and Travels. With 17 Illustrations, 1 75 

The Big Bear’s Adventures and Travels. With 18 Illustrations, 1 75 

Judge Haliburton’s Yankee Stories. Illustrated, 1 75 

Harry Coverdale’s Courtship and Marriage. Illustrated, 1 75 

Lorritner Littlegood. Illustrated. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” 1 75 
Sam Slick, the Clockmaker. By Judge Haliburton. Illustrated,... 1 75 

Modern Chivalry. By Judge Breckenridgo. Two vols., each 1 76 

Neal’s Charcoal Sketches. Bv Joseph C. Neal. 21 Illustrations,... 2 50 

Major Jones’s Courtship. 21 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 

Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes. 12 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 

Major Jones’s Travels. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 75 cents, cloth, 1 00 

Raney Cottem’s Courtship. 8 Illustrations. Paper, 50 cents, cloth, 1 00 


IgiT Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price* 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHEES’ PUBLICATIONS. 11 


NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

Consuelo. By George Sand. One volume, 12mo., bound in cloth, ...$1 50 
The Countess of Hudolstadt. Sequel to “ Consuelo.” 3 2mo., cloth,.. 1 50 
Indiana. A Novel. By George Sand, author of “ Consuelo,” cloth, 1 50 
Jealousy ; or, Teverino. By George Sand, author “ Consuelo/' cloth, 1 50 
Fanchon, the Cricket ; or, La Petite Fadette. By George Sand, cloth, 1 50 

The Dead Secret. By Wilkie Collins, author of “ Basil,” cloth, 1 50 

The Crossed Path; or Basil. By Wilkie Collins, cloth, 1 50 

John Jasper’s Secret. Sequel to “Mystery of Edwin Drood,” cloth,... 1 50 
The Life of Charles Dickens. By Dr. R. Shelton Mackenzie, cloth, 1 50 
The Lamplighter’s Story, with others. By Charles Dickens, cloth,... 1 50 
The Old Stone Mansion. By author of “ Heiress of Sweetwater,” cloth, 1 50 

Rose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., cloth, 1 75 

Lord Montagu’s Page. By G. P. R. James, author ‘ Cavalier/ cloth, 1 75 
The Earl of Mayfield. By Thomas P. May, cloth, black and gold,., 1 50 

Myrtle Lawn. A Novel. By Robert E. Ballard, cloth, 1 50 

Corinne; or, Italy. A Love Story. By Madame de Stael, cloth,... 1 00 
Cyrilla; or Mysterious Engagement. By author of “ Initials,” cloth, 1 00 

Treason at Home. A Novel. By Mrs, Greenough, cloth, 1 75 

Letters from Europe. By Colonel John W. Forney. Bound in clotty 1 75 

Frank Fairlegh. By author of “ Lewis Arundel,” cloth, 1 75 

Lewis Arundel. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 75 

Harry Racket Scapegrace. By the author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 75 

Tom Racquet. By author of “ Frank Fairlegh,” cloth, 1 75 

La Gaviota; the Sea-Gull. By Fernan Caballero, cloth, 1 50 

Aurora Floyd. By Miss M. E. Braddon. Bound in cloth, 1 00 

The Laws and Practice of the Game of Euchre and Draw Poker, 

as adopted by the Euchre Club of Washington, D. C. Cloth, 1 00 

Youth of Shakspeare, author “Shakspeare and His Friends,” cloth, 1 25 
Shakspeare and His Friends, author “Youth of Shakspeare,” cloth, 1 25 
The Secret Passion, author of “ Shakspeare and His Friends,” cloth, 1 25 
Father Tom and the Pope; or, A Night at the Vatican, illus., cloth, 1 00 

Poetical Works of Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. volume, cloth, 2 50 

Life of Sir Walter Scott. By John G. Lockhart. With Portrait, 2 50 

Tales of a Grandfather <fc History of Scotland, by Walter Scott, cloth, 2 50 
Life of Napoleon Bonaparte, by Sir Walter Scott. One 8vo. vol., cloth, 2 50 
Miss Pardoe’s Choice Novels. In one large octavo volume, cloth,... 4 00 
Life, Speeches and Martyrdom of Abraham Lincoln. Illus., cloth,.. 1 75 
Rome and the Papacy. A History of the Men, Manners and Tempo- 
ral Government of Rome in the Nineteenth Century, cloth 1 75 

The French, German, Spanish, Latin and Italian Languages Without 
a Master. Whereby any one of these Languages can be learned 

without a Teacher. By A. H. Monteith. One volume, cloth 2 00 

Liebig’s Complete Works on Chemistry. By Justus Liebig, cloth,... 2 00 

Life and Adventures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, cloth, 1 75 

Tan-go-ru-a. An Historical Drama, in Prose. By Mr. Moorhead,.... 1 00 

The Impeachment Trial of President Andrew Johnson. Cloth, 1 50 

Trial of the Assassins for the Murder of Abraham Lincoln. Cloth,... I 50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Prieei 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


12 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


NEW AND GOOD BOOKS BY BEST AUTHORS. 

Beautiful Snow, and Other Poems. New Illustrated Edition. By J. W. 
Watson. With Illustrations by E. L. Henry. One volume, morocco 
cloth, black and gold, gilt top, side, and back, price $2.00; or in 
maroon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, $3 Of 
The Outcast, and Other Poems. By J. W. Watson. One volume, 
green morocco cloth, gilt top, side and back, price $2.00 ; or in ma- 
roon morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, ... 3 00 
The Young Magdalen; and Other Poems. Bound in green mo- 
rocco cloth, gilt top, side, and back, price $3.00; or in full gilt,.... 4 00 
Hans Breitmann’s Ballads. By Charles G. Leland. Containing the 
“ First ,” “Second," “ Third,” “Fourth,” and “ Fifth Series” of Hans 
Breit matin's Ballads. Complete in one large volume, bound in 
morocco cloth, gilt side, gilt top, and full gilt back, with beveled 


boards. With a full and complete Glossary to the whole work, 4 00 

Meister Karl's Sketch Book. By Charles G. Leland, (Hans Breit- 
mann.) Complete in one volume, green morocco cloth, gilt side, 
gilt top, gilt back, with beveled boards, price $2.50, or in maroon 

morocco cloth, full gilt edges, full gilt back, full gilt sides, etc., 3 50 

The Ladies’ Guide to True Politeness and Perfect Manners. By 
M iss Leslie. Ever}' lad}’ should have it. Cloth, full gilt back,... 1 75 
The Ladies’ Complete Guide to Needlework and Embroidery. With 

113 illustrations. By Miss Lambert. Cloth, full gilt back, 1 75 

The Ladies’ Work Table Book. 27 illustrations. Paper 50 cts., cloth, 1 00 
Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. By Dow, Jr. In 4 vols., cloth, each.... 1 50 
Wild Oats Sown Abroad. A Spicy Book. By T. B. Witmer, cloth,... 1 50 
The Miser’s Daughter. By William Harrison Ainsworth, cloth, 1 75 


Across the Atlantic. Letters from France, Switzerland, Germany, 

Italy, and Engluud. By C. II. Haeseler, M.D. Bound in cloth,... 2 00 
Popery Exposed. An Exposition of Popery as it was and is, cloth, 1 75 
The Adopted Heir. By Miss Pardoe, author of “The Earl’s Secret,” 1 75 
Coal, C> ‘a 1 Oil, and all other Minerals in the Earth. By Eli Bowen, 1 75 


Secession, Coercion, and Civil War. By J. B. Jones, 1 75 

Lives of Jack Sheppard and Guy Fawkes. Illustrated. One vol., cloth, 1 75 
Christy and White’s Complete Ethiopian Melodies, bound in cloth,... 1 1)0 
Historical Sketches of Plymouth, Luzerne Co., Penna. By Hendrick 
B. Wright, of Wilkesbarre. With Twenty-five Photographs, 4 00 


Dr. Hollick’s great work on the Anatomy and Physiology of the 
Human Figure, with colored dissected plates of the Human Figure, 2 00 
Riddell’s Model Architect. With 22 large full page colored illus- 
trations, and 44 plates of ground plans, with plans, specifications, 
costs of building, etc. One large quarto volume, bound, 15 Cd 


HARRY COCKTON’S LAUGHABLE NOVELS. 


Valentine Vox, Ventriloquist,.. 75 

Valentine Vox, cloth, 2 00 

Sylvester Sound, 75 

The Love Match, 75 


The Fatal Marriages, 

The Steward, 

Percy Effingham, 

The Prince, 


75 

75 

75 

75 


®iT Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. E. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 13 


WORKS IN SETS BY THE BEST AUTHORS. 

Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth’s Popular Novels. 43 vols. in all, $75 25 


Mrs. Ann S. Stephens’ Celebrated Novels. 23 volumes in all, 40 25 

Miss Eliza A. Dupuy’s Works. Fourteen volumes in all, 24 50 

Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz’s Novels. Twelve volumes in all, 21 00 

Mrs. C. A. Warfield’s Novels. Nine volumes in all, 15 75 

Frederika Bremer’s Novels. Six volumes in all, 10 50 

T. Adolphus Trollope’s Works. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 

James A. Maitland’s Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 

Charles Lever’s Works. Ten volumes in all, 20 00 

Alexander Dumas’ Works. Twenty-one volumes in all, 30 75 

George W. M. Reynolds’ Works. Eighteen volumes in all, 31 50 

Frank Fairlegh’s Works. Six volumes in all, 10 50 

Q. K. Philander Doestick’s Novels. Four volumes in all, 7.00 

Cook Books. The best in the world. Eleven volumes in all, 18 25 

Henry Morford’s Novels. Three volumes in all, 5 25 

Mrs. Henry Wood’s Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 75 

Emerson Bennett’s Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 

Green’s Works on Gambling. Four volumes in all, 7 00 

American Humorous Works. Illustrated. Twelve volumes in all, 19 50 

Eugene Sue’s Best Works. Three volumes in all, 6 00 

George Sand’s Works. Consuelo, etc. Five volumes in all, 7 50 

George Lippard’s Works. Five volumes in all, 10 00 

Dow’s Short Patent Sermons. Four volumes in all, 6 00 


The Waverley Novels. New National Edition. Five 8vo. vols., cloth, 15 00 
Charles Dickens' Works. Neio National Edition. 7 volumes, cloth, 20 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Illustrated 8vo. Edition. 18 vols., cloth, 27 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. New American Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 33 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Green Cloth 12 mo. Edition. 22 vols., cloth, 44 00 
Charles Dickens’ Works. Illustrated 12 mo. Edition. 36 vols., cloth, 45 00 

T. S. ARTHUR’S GREAT TEMPERANCE WORKS. 

Six Nights with the Washingtonians, Illustrated T. S. Arthur’s 
Great Temperance Stories. Large Subscription Edition, cloth, gilt, 

$3.50; Red lloan, $4.50; Full Turkey Antique, Full Gilt 6 00 

The Latimer Family ; or the Bottle and Pledge. By T. S. Arthur, cloth, 1 00 

MODEL SPEAKERS AND READERS. 

Comstock’s Elocution and Model Speaker. Intended for the use of 
Schools, Colleges, and for private Study, for the Promotion of 
Health, Cure of Stammering, and Defective Articulation. By 
Andrew Comstock and Philip Lawrence. With 236 Illustrations.. 2 00 
The Lawrence Speaker. A Selection of Literary Gems in Poetry and 
Prose, designed for the use of Colleges. Schools, Seminaries, Literary 
Societies. By Philip Lawrence, Professor of Elocution. 600 pages.. 2 00 
Comstock’s Colored Chart. Being a perfect Alphabet of the English 
Language, Graphic and Typic, with exercises in Pitch, Force and 
Gesture, and Sixty-Eight colored ligures, representing the various 
postures and different attitudes to be used in declamation. On a large 
RoHer. Every School should have a copy of it 5 00 

Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


14 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

43- GREAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES. -S3 


ILLUSTRATED OCTAVO EDITION. 

Reduced in jyrice from $2.50 to $1.50 a volume. 

This edition is printed from large type, doable column, octavo page, each 
book being complete in one volume, the whole containing near Six Hundred 
Illustrations, by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, and other artists. 


Our Mutual Friend,.. 

...Cloth, 

$1.50 

David Copperfield, 


$1.50 

Pickwick Papers, 


1.50 

Barnabv Rudge, 


1.50 

Nicholas Nickleby,..., 


1.50 

Martin Chuzzlewit,...., 


1.50 

Great Expectations,... 

...Cloth. 

1.50 i 

Old Curiosity Shop 


1.50 

L'.inplighter’s Story,. 

...Cloth, 

1.50 j 

Sketches by “ Boz,”... 


1.50 

Oiiver Twist, 


1.50 | 

Christmas Stories 


1.50 

Bleak House, 


1.50 

Dickens’ New Stories,. 

..Cloth, 

1.50 

Little Dorrit, 


1.50 

A Tale of Two Cities,. 


1.50 

D uubey and Son, 


1.50 j 

Amer. Notes, Pic-Nic Papers, 

1.50 

Price of a set, in Black cloth. 

in eighteen volumes, 

$27.00 


“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 40.00 

“ “ Half calf, sprinkled edges, 4S.00 

“ “ Half calf, marbled edges, 54.00 

“ “ Hair calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt backs,... 60. U0 

ILLUSTRATED DUODECIMO EDITION. 

Reduced in price from $2.00 to $1.25 a volume. 

This edition is printed on the finest paper, from large, clear type, leaded, 
that all can read, containing Six Hundred full page Illustrations, on 
’ tinted paper, from designs by Cruikshank, Phiz, Browne, Maclise, 
MeLenau, and other artists. This is the only edition published that con- 
tains all the original illustrations, as selected by Mr. Charles Dickens. 
Complete in 36 volumes, boutid in back, morocco cloth, price $45.00 u set. 

“ NEW NATIONAL EDITION” OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 

This is the cheapest bound edition of the entire works of Charles Dickens 
ever published, all his writings being contained in seven large octavo vol- 
umes, with a portrait of Charles Dickens, and other illustrations. 

Price of a set, in Black cloth, in seven volumes, $20.00 

“ “ Full sheep, Library style, 23.00 

“ u Half calf, antique, or Half calf, full gilt hacks,... 25.00 


GREEN MOROCCO CLOTH, DUODECIMO EDITION. 

This is the “ People's Duodecimo Edition” in a new style of Binding, in 
Oreen Morocco Cloth, Bevelled Boards, Full Gilt descriptive back, and 
Medallion Portrait on sides in gilt, in Twenty-two handy volumes, 12 mo., 
fine pope r. large clear type, and Two Hundred Illustrations on tinted paper. 
Price $44 a set, and each set put up in a neat and strong box. This is 
the handsomest and best edition ever published for the price. 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt cf Rotail Prioe, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 15 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

WGEEAT REDUCTION IN THEIR PRICES. "5a 


PETERSONS’ NEW AMERICAN EDITION OF DICKENS' WORKS. 

This new edition of Charles Dickens’ Writings is in twenty-two volumes, 
and for beauty and cheapness far surpasses any ever before issued. It is 
called “ Petersons’ New American Edition,” and is printed on fine paper, 
from large, clear type, leaded, with original illustrations as selected by 
Mr. Dickens and designed by Phiz, Cruikshank, Browne, Maclise and other 
artists, and bound very gorgeously in red vellum, black and gold, with the 
cover filled with the author’s principal characters, which he has made so 
world-famous. There in one corner is the immortal Pickwick, in another 
the well-known Micawber, the learned Capt. Cuttle, poor little Oliver Twist, 
the misguided Grandfather, the mean, hypocritical Pecksniff, the merce- 
nary Squeers, Boots, The Beadle, etc., and all of this for the small sum of 
$1.50 a volume, or a complete set in 22 volumes, each set put up in a neat 
box, for $33.00, making a very handsome and unique edition. 

CHEAP PAPER COVER EDITION OF DICKENS’ WORKS. 


Each hook being complete i 


Pickwick Papers,. 


50 

Nicholas Nickleby, 50 

Dombey and Son, 50 

Our Mutual Friend, 50 

David Copperfield, 50 

Martin Chuzzlewit, 50 

Old Curiosity Shop, 50 

Oliver Twist, 50 

American Notes, 25 

Hard Times, * 25 

A Tale of Two Cities, 25 

Somebody’s Luggage, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings, 25 

Mrs. Lirriper’s Legacy, 25 

Mugby Junction, 25 

Dr. Marigold’s Prescriptions,... 25 

Mystery of Edwin Drood, 25 

Message from the Sea, 25 

Hunted Down; and Other Reprinted 

THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DICKENS. 

LIFE AND WRITINGS OF CHARLES DICKENS. By Dr. R. Shelton 

Mackenzie , containing a full history of his Life, hi3 Uncollected Pieces, 
in Prose and Verse; Personal Recollections and Anecdotes; His Last 
Will in full ; and Letters from Mr. Dickens never before published. 
With a Portrait and Autograph of Charles Dickens. Complete in ono 
large duodecimo volume, in black cloth, or in red vellum. Price $1.50. 


n one large octavo volume. 

Bleak House, 50 

Little Dorrit, 50 

Christmas Stories, 50 

Barnaby Rudge, 50 

Sketches by “ Boz,” 50 

Great Expectations, 50 

Joseph Grimaldi, 50 

The Pic-Nic Papers, 50 

The Haunted House, 25 

Uncommercial Traveller, 25 

A House to Let, 25 

Perils of English Prisoners, 25 

Wreck of the Golden Mary, 25 

Torn Tiddler’s Ground, 25 

Dickens’ New Stories, 25 

Lazy Tour of Idle Apprentices,. 25 

The Holly-Tree Inn, 25 

No Thoroughfare, 25 

Pieces, o0 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pri«e, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


16 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WONDERFUL WORKS. 


Count of Monte-Cristo, $1 00 

Edmond Dantes, 75 

The Three Guardsmen, 75 

Twenty Years After, 75 


Bragelonne, 75 Countess of Charny, 1 


Memoirs of a Physician; or, 

Joseph Balsamo, $1 

Queen’s Necklace, 1 

Six Years Later, 1 


The Iron Mask, 1 

Louise La Valliere, 1 

Diana of Meridor, 1 

Adventures of a Marquis, 1 

Love and Liberty, (1792-’93).. 1 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 


00 Andree de Taverney, 1 

00 The Chevalier, 1 

00 j Forty-five Guardsmen, 1 

00 The Iron Hand, 1 

50 | The Conscript, 1 50 

Camiile; or, The Fate of a Coquette, (La Dame Aux Camelias,) 1 50 

Countess of Monte-Cristo, a companion to Count of Monte-Cristo,... 1 00 
The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


The Mohicans of Paris, 

The Horrors of Paris, 

The Fallen Angel, 

Felina de Chambure, 

Sketches in France, 

Isabel of Bavaria, *L. 

The Man with Five Wives, 

Annette; or, Lady of Pearls,... 


75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 

75 


Twin Lieutenants, 

George; or, Isle of France,, 

Madame de Chamblay, 

The Black Tulip,.; 

The Corsican Brothers, 

The Count of Moret, 

The Marriage Verdict, 

Buried Alive, 


50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

50 

25 


GEORGE W. M. REYNOLDS’ HISTORICAL NOVELS. 


Mysteries Court of London, ....$1 00 

Rose Foster, 1 50 

Caroline of Brunswick, 1 00 

Venetia Trelawney, 1 00 

Lord Saxondale, 1 00 

Count Christoval, 1 00 

Rosa Lambert, 1 00 

Wallace, the Hero of Scotland, 1 00 

The Mysteries of the Court of Naples, full of Illustrations 1 

Robert Bruce, the Hero-King of Scotland, full of Illustrations 1 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 


Mary Price, $1 

Eustace Quentin, 1 

Joseph Wilmot, 1 

Banker’s Daughter, 1 

Kenneth, 1 

The Rye-House Plot, I 

The Necromancer, 1 

The Gypsy Chief, 1 


00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 

00 


Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots,... 75 

The Opera Dancer, 75 

Child of Waterloo, 75 

Isabella Vincent, 75 

Vivian Bertram, 75 

Countess of Lascelles, 75 

Duke of Marchtnont, 75 

Massacre of Glencoe, 75 

Loves of the Harem, 75 

The Soldier’s Wife, 75 

May Middleton, 75 


Ellen Percy, 75 

Agnes Evelyn, 75 

Pickwick Abroad, 75 

Parricide, 75 

Discarded Queen, 75 

The Countess and the Page, 75 

Life in Paris, 50 

Edgar Montrose, 50 

The Ruined Gamester, 50 

Clifford and the Actress, 50 

Ciprina; or, the Secrets, 50 


/gt- Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Pric«, 
by T, B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 17 


CHARLES LEVER S GREAT WORKS. 


Charles O’Malley, 75 

Harry Lorrequer, 75 

Jack Ilinton, 75 

Tom Burke of Ours, 75 

Knight of Gwynne, 75 


Arthur O’Leary 75 

Con Cregan, 75 

Davenport Dunn, 75 

Horace Templeton, 75 

Kate O’Donoghue, 75 


Above are in paper cover, or a fine edition is in cloth at $2.00 each. 

A Rent in a Cloud, 50 | St. Patrick’s Eve, ... 50 

Ten Thousand a Year, in one volume, paper cover, $1.50 ; or in cloth, 2 00 
The Diary of a Medical Student, by author “ Ten Thousand a Year,” 75 

MRS. HENRY WOOD’S MASTERLY BOOKS. 


The Master of Greylands, $1 50 

AVithin the Maze, 1 50 

Dene Hollow, 1 50 

Bessy Rane, 1 50 

George Canterbury’s AVill, 1 50 

Verner’8 Pride, 1 50 

The Channings, 1 50 


The Shadow of Ashlydyat, $1 50 

Squire Trevlyn’s Heir, 1 50 

Oswald Cray, 1 50 

Mildred Arkell, 1 50 

The Red Court Farm, 1 50 

Elster’s Folly, 1 50 

Saint Martin’s Eve, 1 50 


Roland Yorke. A Sequel to “ The Channings,” 1 50 

Lord Oakburn’s Daughters; or, The Earl’s Heirs, 1 50 

The Castle’s Heir ; or, Lady Adelaide’s Oath, 1 50 

The above are each in paper cover, or in cloth, price $1.75 each. 

Edina ; or, Missing Since Midnight. Cloth, $1.00, or in paper cover,. 75 

The Mystery. A Love Story. Cloth, $1.00, or in paper cover, 75 

Parkwater. Told in Twilight, 75 1 A Life’s Secret, 50 

The Lost Bank Note, 50 The Haunted Tower 50 

The Lost AVill, 50 The Runaway Match, 25 

Orville College, 50 Martyn AVare’s Temptation, 25 

Five Thousand a Year, 25 Foggy Night at Oflford, 25 

The Diamond Bracelet, 25 AVilliam Allair, 25 

Clara Lake’s Dream, 25 A Light and a Dark Christmas, 25 

The Nobleman’s AVife, 25 The Smuggler’s Ghost 25 

25 Rupert Hall, 25 

25 My Husband’s First Love, 25 

25 Marrying Beneath Your Station 25 


Frances Hildyard, 

Cyrilla Maude’s First Love,... 

My Cousin Caroline’s AVedding 

EUGENE SUE’S LIFE-LIKE WORKS. 

The AVandering Jew, $1 50 j First Love 

The Mysteries of Paris, 1 50 i AVoman’s Love, 

Martin, the Foundling, 1 50 Female Bluebeard, 

Above are in cloth at $2.00 each. | Man-of-AVar’s-Man, 

Life and Adventures of Raoul de Surville. A Tale of the Empire,. 

WILLIAM H. MAXWELL’S WORKS. 

Wild Sports of the AVest, 75 | Brian O’Lynn, 


Stories of AVaterloo, 75 I Life of Grace O’Malley,. 


50 

50 

50 

50 

25 


75 

50 


Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


18 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS’ PUBLICATIONS. 


HUMOROUS AMERICAN WORKS. 

With Illuminated Covers, and beautifully Illustrated by Felix 0. C. Darley, 

Major Jones’s Courtship. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

Major Jones’s Travels. Full of Illustrations 75 

Major Jones’s Georgia Scenes, with Illustrations by Darley, 75 

Raney Cottem’s Courtship, by author of Major Jones’s Courtship,.... 50 

The Adventures of Captain Simon Suggs. Illustrated, 75 

Major Jones’s Chronicles of Pineville. Illustrated, 75 

Polly Peablossom’s Wedd.ng. With Illustrations, 75 

Widow Rugby’s Husband. Full of Illustrations 75 

The Big Bear of Arkansas. Illustrated by Darley, 75 

Western Scenes; or. Life on the Prairie. Illustiated, 75 

Streaks of Squatter Life and Far West Scenes. Illustrated, 75 

Pickings from the New Orleans Picayune. Illustrated, 75 

Stray Subjects Arrested and Bound Over. Illustrated, 75 

The Louisiana Swamp Doctor. Full of Illustrations, 75 

Charcoal Sketches. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated, 75 

Peter Faber’s Misfortunes. By Joseph C. Neal. Illustrated, 75 

Peter Ploddy and other Oddities. Bv Joseph C. Neal 75 

Yankee Among the Mermaids. By William E. Burton 75 

The Drama in Pokerville. By J. M. Field. Illustrated, 75 

New Orleans Sketch Book. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

The Deer Stalkers. By Frank Forester. Illustrated 75 

The Quorndon Hounds. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

My Shooting Box. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

The Warwick Woodlands. By Frank Forester. Illustrated, 75 

Adventures of Captain Farrago. By H. H. Brackenridge, 75 

Adventures of Major O’Regan. By H. H. Brackenridge, 75 

Sol Smith’s Theatrical Apprenticeship. Illustrated, 75 

Sol Smith’s Theatrical Journey-Work. Illustrated, 75 

Quarter Race in Kentucky. With Illustrations by Darley, 75 

The Mysteries of the Backwoods. By T. B. Thorpe, 75 

Percival Maybeny’s Adventures. By J. H. Ingraham, 75 

Sam Slick’s Yankee Yarns and Yankee Letters, 75 

Adventures of Fudge Fumble; or, Love Scrapes of his Life, 75 

Aunt Patty’s Scrap Bag. By Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz, 75 

Following the Drum. By Mrs. Gen. Viele, 50 

The American Joe Miller. With 100 Engravings, 50 

SAMUEL WARREN’S BEST BOOKS. 

Ten Thousand a Year, paper, $1 50 j The Diary of a Medical Stu- 
Ten Thousand a Year, cloth,.. 2 00 1 dent, 75 

G. P. R. JAMES’S FASCINATING BOOKS. 

Lord Montague’s Page. Paper cover, $1.50. or in cloth, $1 75 

The Cavalier. By the author of “ Lord Montague’s Page,” cloth,.... 1 00 

The Man in Black, 75 1 Arrah Neil, 75 

Mary of Burgundy, 75 I Eva St. Clair, 50 


4^* Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
by T. B. Peterson Si Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 


Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth's New Book. 





t 


BY MRS. E. D. E. IT. SOUTH WORTH. 


One Volume, Square 12mo. Paper Cover. Price Seventy-five Cents, 

' Fat(tI Marriage; or, Orville Deville has just been issued in a remarkably cheap but 

handsome shape by Messrs. T . B. Peterson &= Brothers , Philadelphia. It has a beautifully iltus- 
t™ted cover, which adds vastly to its attractiveness. “The Fatal Marriage" is from the ben of 
that distinguished novelist, Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth, and is one of the best and most 
exciting romances of modern times. The plot is of the strongest description, treating of the crime 
op bigamy committed by a heedless young man, the wrongs of the deceived wives , the pitiless vtn- 
,. at wld girl of the forest, Lionne, and the fearful sufferings of the bigamist. The pith 
of the really great story, of course, can only be gathered from the book itself, and it is safe to say 
that no one will be able to put it down, after once commencing to read it, until the final sentence 
has been reached. The incidents are thrilling in the highest degree, and follenv each other with 
absolutely startling rapidity. The reader has hardly time to recover from the effect of the passion- 
ate love-scenes between Deville and Lionne before the latter appears as the pitiless avenger of her 
™rongs, pursues her delinquent husband and abducts his child. The character-sketching is remark- 
ably vivid and true to nature, and the introduction of an apparently supernatural element is well 
c *i£2ff a * e<i ”} uc h to the intensity of the exciting novel. No one can afford to miss reading 

The Fatal Marriage," and its exceedingly moderate price places it within reach of all. 

COMPLETE LIST OF MRS. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS. 

Mrs. Southworth' s IVorhs are complete in forty-three volumes, bound in morocco cloth, 
gilt back , library style , price $ 1.75 each , or $ 75.25 a set, each set in a neat box, 

Ishmael ; or, In the Depths. Being “ Self-Made.” 

Self-Raised ; or, From the Depths. Sequel to “ Ishmael.’* 


The Fortune Seeker. 
The Lost Heiress. 

Tried for Her Life. 
Cruel as the Grave. 

The Maiden Widow. 
The Family Doom. 

The Bride s Fate. 

The Changed Brides. 
Fair Play. 

How He Won Her. 
Victor’s Triumph. 

A Beautiful Fiend. 

The Spectre Lover. 

The Prince of Darkness. 
The Christmas Guest. 
Fallen Pride. 

The Widow s Son. 

The Bride of Llewellyn. 
The Fatal Secret. 


The Fatal Marriage. 

The Deserted Wife. 

Love’s Labor Won. 

A Noble Lord. 

The Lost Heir of Linlithgow. 
The Artist’s Love. 

The Gipsy's Prophecy. 

The Three Beauties. 

Vivia ; or, the Secret of Power. 
The Two Sisters. 

The Missing Bride. 

The Wife’s Victory. 

The Mother-in-Law. 

The Haunted Homestead. 

The Lady of the Isle. 

Allworth Abbey. 

Retribution. 

The Curse of Clifton. 

The Discarded Daughter. 

The Mystery of Dark Hollow. 
The Phantom Wedding. 


The Bridal Eve. 

India ; Pearl of Pearl River. 

Copies of any one work, or more , or a complete set of “Mrs. Southworth' s 
Works," will be sent to any one, to any address, at once, free of freight or postage, on 
remitting $ 1.75 for each one wanted , to T. B. Peterson 6 ° Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. 

Address all orders and remittances to the Publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


THE ANNALS OF A BABY. 

MOW IT WAS NAMED— MOW IT WAS NURSED— U O W IT BECAME 
A TYRANT— THE BABY'S PARTY— THE BABY’S RIFE, ETC, 

BY SABAH BRIDGES STEBBXNS. 


«» The Annals of a Baby ” is a delightful book that it is impossible to praise too 
highly. Everybody should read it and enjoy its exquisite humor and telling pathos . 
Sarah Bridges Stebbins, the author, has evidently a deep knowledge of the human 
heart, for she pictures humanity in all its various phases, and does it so naturally that 
the impression produced is profound and lasting. She depicts the sorrowful and the 
comical with equal power, so that the reader, while almost moved to tears by some 
pathetic passage, is suddenly convulsed with laughter by incidents as droll as unex- 
pected. The Baby, of course, is the main figure about which all the other characters 
are grouped, and the influence for good exerted by the tiny creature is shown in a 
thousand different ways. The little mite fills every heart with tenderness and kindli- 
ness, and causes no end of charitable actions to be performed by the simple effect of its 
presence. The Young Mother is a superb portraiture , full of graphic touches, and 
the Young Father is capitally sketched. Very pleasing, too, are the gay Young Aunties, 
and the Grandfathers and Grandmothers are personages that instantly rivet attention. 
The Fat Nurse in her coal-scuttle bonnet, with her bulgy umbrella and never-failing 
basket, is a character that Dickens himself would not have been ashamed to own. She 
is good-natured and intensely practical, while her language is worthy of the immortal 
Sairey Gamp. The Poor Relation and her Crippled Sister are sublime creations, and 
it is utterly impossible not to feel a decided interest in Aunt Hannah, who was recalled 
to the world by the potent spell of the wonderful Baby, while the Poor Relation's Aged 
Father and Mother, James, the prim footman, and the Fat Coachman are admirably 
sketched. “ The Annals of a Baby ” is a series of word-paintings at once poetic 
and natural, and the style of composition is simply delicious. The incidents are fresk 
and captivating, and there is not one commonplace or dull scene in the entire volume. 
There is a delightful flutter of excitement attending the naming of the Baby, and the 
Baby's party is as comical an affair as ever an author put on paper. The story of 
the Nezv Nurse, the Christmas gift from the poor children to the Crippled Sister, the 
death of the Poor Relation's parents, and Aunt Hannah's experience are pathetic in 
the very highest degree, and the reader who remains untouched by them must have a 
heart of stone. But it is impossible to point out all the beauties of this charming story 
in this brief article. Suffice it to say that “ The Annals OF A Baby ” is a master- 
piece in every point of view, and so salutary is its tone that it will benefit all 7oho read 
it. No better or more interesting work of the kind can be found, and it is cordially 
commended to everybody , especially those who have read and admired “ Helen's Babies." 


Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 


“ The Annals OF a Baby ” will be found for sale by all Booksellers, at all 
News Stands, and on all Railroad Trains, or copies of it will be sent to any one , to 
any place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


EQUAL TO “HELEN’S BABIES.” 



WITH HER TRIALS WITH THEM, IN THE 

nomine, Ion, Afterion and Evening of One Day. 

SIT JOHN HABBERTON. 

AUTHOR OF “HELEN’S BABIES." 

"Mrs. A/ay burn's Twins" is truthful \ told with spirit and humor , is vivid , laugh • 
able and pathetic — it is natural and amusing — it is pretty and humorously told — every 
word in it is true — it is a pleasant story of domestic life — it will please the hearts of 
all to read it — it is a very funny and amusing story — it is a curious narrative , light, 
bright, rapid, picturesque and domestic — it will amuse and cheer all that read it, for 
it is an amusing, realistic, graphic, comical, graceful, tender and touching narrative — 
it is full of humor, is intensely real, and will invariably move the reader to laughter — 
it is a good book for every husband, wife, father and mother to read— it is a charming 
bit of work, filled to the brim with fun, frolic, and reality, and the author will have 
the thanks of every one that reads it, for there is in it a sweet undercurrent of pathos 
that lends a special charm to the whole story, from first to last. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00, 


THE “HELEFS BABIES” SERIES. 

Price 50 Cent9 Each in Paper Cover; or in Morocco Cloth, $1.00 each. 

MRS. MAYBURN’S TWINS. By John Habberton, author 
of “Helen’s Babies.” With Illustrated Cover and Portraits. 

HELEN’S BABIES. By John Habberton. HELEN’S 
BABIES. With Illustrated Cover and Portraits. 

BERTHA’S BABY. Equal to “Helen's Babies” BERTHA’S 
BABY. With Illustrated Cover and Portraits. 

THE ANNALS OF A BABY. How it was Named— Baby’s 
First Gifts — How it was Nursed — The Baby’s Party— The 
Baby’s Life, etc. By Mrs . Sarah Bridges Stebbins. 

figt* Above books will be found for sale by all Booksellers, at all News Stands every- 
where, and on all Railroad Trains, or copies of any one or all of them will be sent to 
any phc, to any place , at once, per mail, post paid, on remitting price to the publishers , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


BERTHA’S BABY. 

BY GUSTAVE DROZ. 


“ Bertha s Baby ” is one of those exquisite masterpieces oj 
literature that appear but at very rare intervals. It treaty 
in a delightful , breezy way , of a young husband and wij 
and their household treasure, “Baby.” Everything in th 
book is bright , and every word goes straight to its mark 
The parents are good ’ common-sense people , and “Baby” u 
a genuine boy — not a pet of the nursery , but a romping , 
hearty creature , full of life arid questions. His father and 
mother love him dearly , of course , reader will love 

him , too. “Berthas Baby ” is just the book for the home- 
circle — -first, because of its intense naturalness, and again, 
because of its exceptional purity. It is a charming picture 
of home life, a picture that every young mother zvill delight 
in. “Berthas Baby” will prove a formidable rival to 
“Helen's Babies, ” for, while it is fully as amusing, it is a 
deeper, more human and more philosophical production. 
The word-painting which abounds in the pages of “Bertha's 
Baby” is simply exquisite, and the volume from beginning to 
end is worthy of being styled a prose poem. The interest 
is kept up continuously from first to last, and new beauties 
are brought forward on every page. In short, too much 
praise cannot be bestowed upon this fascinating book. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 

‘ Bertha' s Baby ” is for sale by all Booksellers ana 
News Agents, or copies of it will be sent to any one, at once, 
per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


HELEN’S BABIES. 

WITH 

Some accounts of their ways innocent, crafty, angelic, impish, witching 
and repulsive. Also, a partial record of their actions 
during ten days of their existence. 

BY JOHN HABBERTON. 

With an Illustrated Cover, with Portraits of Budge and Toddie. 


“Helen's Babies ” is famous. It contains more merriment than any other book ex- 
tant , and at the same time is wonderfully interesting. A masterpiece in every sense 
of the word, it awakens intense admiration while it produces hearty laughter. As a 
picture of child-life it is nature itself, and it could not well be otherwise, for John Hab- 
berton, its author, made his own children sit for the portraits of Budge and Toddie , 
the refreshingly droll little heroes. The tone of the charming volume is healthful and 
vigorous, while all the incidents are bright and telling. Budge and Toddie, “ the best 
children in the world," are mischief incarnate. They are consigned to the care of their 
Uncle Harry while their parents spend a fortnight with a friend, and at once the fun 
begins. The boys demand stories, and, when their uncle favorPthem with a biblical 
narrative, they correct him and tell him he doesn't know anything about Jonah and 
Noah and the Ark. Toddie is fearfully persistent, and, when denied anything , has a 
way of bursting into such a storm of tears that his wish is instantly granted. He wants 
“ to shee the wheels of his uncle's watch go wound," and has a terrible craving for candy, 
while he echoes all his brother's words, and is always getting into some difficulty or 
other. Budge is inquisitive and perplexing. He interprets Toddie' s picturesque baby 
talk, and is ever ready for a frolic. The children cause their uncle no end of worri- 

ment. Budge has a goat and a carriage to which the animal is harnessed. 
In this vehicle he meets with frequent mishaps. The boys will besmear their gar- 
ments with mud, and their adventurous dispositions occasionally lead them into 
danger. To amuse them and keep them in order, their uncle sings them camp-meeting 
hymns and impersonates in turn bears, lions, zebras, elephants, dogs and cats. Toddie 
has a favorite song, which he invariably demands when he gets hurt, and which exer- 
cises a peculiarly soothing influence upon him. But though veritable imps, the boys are 
charming little fellows, and it is utterly impossible not to loz’e them. They are devout 
after their own peculiar fashion, and insist upon saying prayers, some of which are in- 
describably comical. Altogether, “ Helen's Babies " is one of the most captivating sto- 
ries in existence, the courtship of Uncle Harry and Miss Mayton lending it variety and 
romance. No one can fail to be delighted with it, whether married or single, old or 
young, and all who read it will certainly enjoy a series of hearty laughs. Budge and 
Toddie are capital creations and excellent types of American boyhood. They will 
remain in the memory forever, for “ Helen's Babies " can never be forgotten. > 


Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 


ip??- *« Helen's Babies" will be found for sale by all Booksellers and News Agents, 
on all Railroad Trains, and at all News Stands, or copies of it will be sent to any one, 
to any place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting the price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSOX & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 


POT-BOUILLE. By Emile Zola , author of “Nana.” Paper cover, 
75 cents ; cloth, $1. 25. POT-BQUILLE. By Emile Zola. 

THE MYSTERIES OF MARSEILLES. By Emile Zola 
author of “Nana.” Paper cover, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

TANIAS PERIL. A Russian Story. By Henry Greville , authct 
of “ Dosia.” Price 50 cents in paper, or $1.00 in cloth. 

A WOMAN S PERILS; or, DRIVEN FROM HOME. 

By Mrs. James C. Cook. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

THE ANNALS OF A BABY. How it was Named — Baby’s 
First Gifts — The Baby’s Party — The Baby’s Life, etc. By 
Mrs. Sarah Bridges Stebbins. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

LA FAUSTIN. A Life Study. By Edmond De Goncourt. With 
Illustrated Cover , icith Portraits. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

MRS. MAYBURN’S TWINS. Habberton's last and best book. 
Written since “Helen's Babies .” Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT OF LOUIS 
NAPOLEON. By Emile Zola , author of “Nana” and 
“ HAssommoir .” Paper cover, 75 cents ; cloth, $1.25. 

A FASCINATING WOMAN. By Madame Edmond Adam , 
(, Juliette Lumber. ) Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

MONSIEUR LE MXNXSTRE. By Jules Claretie. With 
Illustrated Cover. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

A CHILD OF ISRAEL. By Edouard Cadol. With Illus- 
trated Cover. Paper cover, 75 cents; cloth, $1.00. 

WINNING THE BATTLE; or, One Girl in Ten Thousand. 
By Mary Von-Erden Thomas. Paper, 75 cents; cloth, $1.25. 

NANA! L’ASSOMMOIR! and NANA’S DAUGHTER. 

With Illustrated Covers. Paper, 75 cents each ; cloth, $1.00. 

'HELEN’S BABIES ! and BERTHA’S BABY ! With Illus- 
trated Covers. Paper cover, 50 cents each ; cloth, $1.00 each. 

FRAN CATELLI’S MODERN COOK BOOK. With 62 
Illustrations. 1462 Receipts. 600 pages. Price $5.00. 

IglT The above works are for sale by all Booksellers , at all News Stands everywhere, and 
on all Rail- Road Trains , or copies of any one, or all of them, will be sent to any one, to 
any place, pe r mail, post-paid, on remitting the price of the ones wanted to the Publishei's , 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS , Philadelphia , Pa . 


It will save many dollars.” — Lynn {Mass.) Reporter. 

GET UP CLUBS FOR 18821 CHEAPEST AND BESTII 


PETERSON’S' MAGAZINE 


-These different premi- 
ums will be given for dif- 
ferent Clubs (see below) or all 
three will be given for cer- 
tain large Clubs (see below). 


( I. “HUSH! DON’T WAKE THEM.” 

II. PHOTOGRAPH AL3UM, GILT. 

(.III. EXTRA COPY OF MAGAZINE, 1882. 


& 2 T- A Supplement will be given in every number far 18S2, containing a full-size pattern for a 
lady's or child's dress. Every subscriber will receive, during the year , twelve of these patterns, worth 
more, alone, according to the newspapers, than the entire subscription price. ‘uOj. 


“Peterson’s Magazine” contains, every year, 1000 pages, 14 steel plates, 12 colored Berlin 
patterns, 12 mammoth colored fashion plates, 24 pages of music, aud about 900 wood cuts. Its princi. 
pal embellishments are — what no other magazine gives — 

Its immense circulation enables its proprietor to spend more on embellishments, stories, etc. 
than any other. It gives more for the money, and combines more merits, than any in the world. It 
is famous for its 

SPLENDIDLY ILLUSTRATED ARTICLES, 

BEST ORIGINAL TALES AND NOVELETS, 
COLORED WORK-TABLE PATTERNS, &c. 

All the most -popular writers are employed to write originally for “Peterson.” In 18S2 FIVE 
ORIGINAL COPYRIGHT NOVELETS will be given, b}’ Ann S. Stephens, by Frank Lee Benedict, by 
Jano G. Austin, by the author of “Josiah Allen’s Wife,” by Lucy H. Hooper, and by Mrs. E. L. 
Cushing. It gives 



Ahead of all others. These plates are engraved on steel, twice the usual size, and are unequalled 
for beauty. They will be superbly colored. Also, household and other receipts; and articles on 
everything interesting to ladies, viz.: the garden, home decoration, new stitches in embroidery, 
etc , etc. 


TERMS (Always in Advance) $2.00 A YEAR. 
-^UNPARALLELED OFFERS TO CLUBS. ^ 

With a copy of the premium picture (20 x 16) a costly sterl engraving , 
“Hush, Don’t Wake Them,” or a Handsome Photoghaph Album, 
gill, to the person getting up the club. 

With an extra copy of the Magazine for 1882, as a premium, to the 
person getting up the club. 

With both an extra copy of the Magazine for 1882, and the prenrua 
picture, or Photograph Album, to the person getting up the club. 

EQR LARGER CLUBS, STILL GREATER INDUCEMENTS! 

Address, post-paid, 

CHARLES J. PETERSON, 

30G Chestnut Street, Tliiladelpliia, Pa< 
J|(J-8p«cl*n*ns sent gratis, if written for, to get up clubs with. 


2 Copies for S3. SO 

3 “ “ 4.50 

4 Copies for SG.50 
6 “ “ 0.00 

5 Copies for S3. 00 

» “ “ 10.50 


EQUAL TO “HELEN'S BABIES.” 


THE ANNALS OF A BABY. 

now IT WAS NAMED— BABY’ S FIRST GIFTS— HOW IT WAS NURSED — 
THE BABY’S PARTY— THE BABYS LIFE, ETC. 

B Y SARAH BRIDGES STEBBINS. 

“ The Annals of a Baby,” by Sarah Bridges Stebbins, is one of the brightest and 
best books of the day. Poetic hi the highest degree, it depicts in glowing tints a series 
of home scenes, in which, of course , the Baby is the central figure. These scenes, and 
the various characters taking part in them, are so natural and so felicitously drawn 
that the reader cannot resist the fascination they exert, and this fascination holds sivay 
until the last. The Baby is a charming little atom, and the good it does simply by its 
presence is described in a manner that reaches at times the height of the pathetic. 
Then the Young Mother , with her kindness and thoughtfulness, the Young Father, 
the Young Aunties, the Grandfathers , the Grandmothers, the Poor Relation, the Crip- 
pled Sister, the Fat Nurse and Aunt Hannah at once photograph themselves on the 
mind and become, so to speak, living personages whom everybody can understand and 
appreciate, the Fat Nurse, with her quaint language and practical ideas, being a ere- 
ction worthy of Dickens. Naming the Baby is a delightful incident, and the Baby' s 
party is so original and novel that no one can fail to be pleased with it. The chapter 
aalled “ The Sunset of Life ” will bring tears to many an eye, and that devoted to Aunt 
Hannah will sink deeply into every mother's heart. But the humor of the book is as 
strong as its pathos, and the hearty laugh will follow the tear as page after page is read. 
A copy of “ The Annals of a Baby ” should find its way into every home in the land. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Morocco Cloth, Gilt and Black, $1.00. 


TEE “HELEN’S BABIES” SERIES. 

Price 50 Cent9 Each in Paper Cover; or in Morocco Cloth, $1.00 each. 

HELEN’S BABIES. By John Habberton. HELEN’S 
BABIES. With Illustrated Cover and Portraits. 

MBS. MAYBUBN’S TWINS. By John Habberton , author 
of “ Helen’s Babies.” With Illustrated Cover and Portraits. 

BEBTHA’S BABY. Equal to “ Helen's Babies .” BEBTHA’S 
BABY. With Illustrated Cover and Portraits. 

THE ANNALS OE A BABY. Fully Equal to “ Helen's 
Babies.” By Mrs. Sarah Bridges Stebbins. 

Above books will be found for sale by all Booksellers, at all News Stands every- 
where, and on all Railroad Trains, or copies of any one or all of thetn will be sent to 
any one, to any place, at once, per mail, post-paid, on remitting price to the publishers, 

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, Philadelphia, Pa. 








































































































* 































. * 






































































































































































































library of congress 


00023l0t>B'i’S 


*S Mil 




mxmmsm 






Tv 

) •/* L 

( 

\ 

v71 

. Ml 

,r \ 

<$ t 



y&ov 

mmB’ 

Sm! 

PjjkV'fV 

n gjl 

w 











